


Hide 'n' Seek

by ladydragon76, Masqueadrift



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 16:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masqueadrift/pseuds/Masqueadrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> During a longer lull in the fighting, Jazz manages to convince Prowl that a day trip to the coast would be a nice break.  They really should have known that it wouldn’t go to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hide 'n' Seek

**Author's Note:**

> **‘Verse:** G1  
>  **Series:** None  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Characters:** Prowl/Jazz  
>  **Warnings:** Sticky, Violence  
>  **Notes:** MasqueAdrift came up with this idea that over the years, the war between the Autobots and Decepticons has become progressively worse for the humans in the Pacific Northwest. Many of the smaller towns have been abandoned due to the violence, though the Autobots do still hold the coastlines. We roleplayed this out, and I was tasked with editing it. I’ve been sitting on it forever, trying to figure out how to handle the switching points of view. Should I switch to just one character overall? Should I go scene by scene? No, because then no matter who I would choose, information that I love -that Masq loves- would be lost. I’ve been stuck on this for a long time. So, after all the editing of my old fics where point of view did not remain with one character per scene, I’ve decided just to smooth the dialogue out where needed, be sure that readers can tell who is talking/thinking/etc., and leave it at is. Masq and I love it, and we hope you’ll enjoy it too.

Jazz shoved the loose, segmented door aside, twisting as he ducked into the old garage so he could watch Prowl’s back while he slipped inside too. It was twilight, the sky pinks and purples, and the old, abandoned town too still and quiet.

Peaceful lie, Jazz thought, his sensors straining.

Once Prowl was inside, Jazz let him go slowly so he wouldn’t just fall, then checked around the entrance, but fortunately there was no blood. Carefully, as quietly as possible, he eased the door back into place, then looked around the interior. It was dim, and with only one optic working at a hundred percent and his visor demolished and gone, Jazz couldn’t see terribly well. They needed light, but light would give them away in a hurry.

First things first, he thought. “Let me check your wing,” Jazz whispered, and stepped behind Prowl. His fragging doorwing had been ripped right off, and while painful, the worst was the consistent bleeding and Prowl’s systems not having yet had the chance to recalibrate for the change in balance and sensory input. They were the half-blind leading the half-blind and bleeding like a stuck pig through a silent town with enemies hunting them.

Jazz checked the cloth, and just as he’d feared, it was soaked in energon. They’d gotten into the garage just in time to stop Prowl leaving another trail.

"That bad, is it?" Prowl whispered, shivering as ghost sensations crawled over his sensornet. The small stump that remained of his wing twitched and he hissed as fresh pain crawled up his back. Damn those Deceptions. They were getting more violent with each passing day it seemed.

“Eh. You’ll live.” Jazz needed to get that line clamped. “Don’t move,” he said, words more an exhalation than another whisper, then went to see what he could find by touch that could help him.

Prowl watched Jazz fumble around half-blind in the dark of their temporary shelter. This was, by far, the worst enforced vacation he'd ever been on, but he didn't fault Jazz for anything that happened. No, this was all the Decepticons' doing. Though, silently, he wished he'd never given in and allowed Jazz to lure him out of the safety of his nice, boring, clean, pain-free office.

At least his battle computer still worked.

Jazz found some old zip ties and decided they’d have to do. He crossed back to Prowl, kneeling behind him. He was going to have to risk some light after all. “Couple of the main lines are still bleedin’, so I’ma gonna pinch the ends shut,” he said softly, then turned on one headlight, counting the heavy pulses of his spark as he forced his fingers not to slip over the ragged ends of the bleeding energon lines.

The zip ties were not a perfect fix, energon still seeped to the ends, but Jazz angled them up, secured them with more zip ties, then repacked the area with more rags. Ratchet was going to have kittens over the filth, but there was nothing for it at the time. Maybe tomorrow in the daylight Jazz would be able to find something better. As it was now, however, he shut down the headlight, then turned all of his focus outward, praying those forty-four seconds hadn’t been their downfall.

Prowl sighed, listening to the silence outside their filthy garage, then crawled into a relatively clean spot near the door so he could better hear anything that might be trying to sneak up on them from outside.

"Remind me, when we get back, not to leave the _Ark_ without extra acid pellet rounds," Prowl whispered, glancing toward Jazz, then back at the door, really straining to _see_ anything that might be approaching. He couldn't hear anything, or see anything really, and half of the sensory data was scrambled with that one wing panel missing. The other, while trying to compensate, was giving him nothing but errors and false readings.

Prowl's optics dimmed and he closed them for a moment. He was exhausted and _everything_ hurt. It'd been a long time since he'd felt pain like this, and it was really wearing on a mech. Hopefully, with some recharge, his systems would have some time to recalibrate and he'd be less... useless.

Jazz moved over to Prowl, touch light on his shoulder. “I think ya should get some recharge. My sensors can handle the dark, and since my vision’s slagged, we’re gonna need your optics in the daylight.”

"Fair enough," Prowl agreed quietly, reaching over to pat Jazz's hand as he was touched. It would be pointless to try and fight the exhaustion, and with his sensors pretty much unusable, it wouldn't do much good to remain awake.

He sighed, letting some of the tension drain out of his frame, his one remaining doorwing sagging on his back. The movement caused the stump of the other to throb, sending a bright shock of pain through his sensornet. He grit his teeth against it and tried to get comfortable. That was the disadvantage of wings during war, they tended to be the first thing your enemy went after.

"I'll see you in the morning, Jazz," Prowl murmured before slipping into an exhausted recharge.

“Sleep, Prowler,” Jazz whispered. “I’ll wake ya for watch at dawn, or if the ‘Cons get too close.” He had always thought they made a brilliant team, but this little outing was putting it to the test. They were both suffering some heavy weaknesses in their best systems. Prowl’s doorwings were fragged, and even if he had been uninjured, recalibration took time, and his balance was only going to improve as he _moved_. For Jazz, he was so wrapped up on _seeing_ that being knocked down to one optic and no visor to provide alternate spectrums and ranges was akin to being visually blind.

Let none say he wasn’t adaptive though. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to navigate without sight, and probably wouldn’t be the last. And if Prowl could get some rest so his processors were clearer, they’d be sitting damn pretty because between the two of them, they could plan their way out of, or into, anything.

To help keep himself from straining and giving himself a headache, Jazz closed his optics. The left one hurt with that cracked lens, and Jazz could better focus on his sensors and scanners, though he kept everything passive for the time being so they wouldn’t be detected.

Jazz worried as he held the vigil. It was all too telling that Prowl didn’t fight him about the recharge this time, when there was usually at least a little banter over who got to take watch first. He kept one hand on Prowl all night, optics still shut, and every other sense stretched as far as they’d go. It was quiet over all, but there were small things still and they scurried and skittered. Wildlife had taken over the abandoned town, and it’d been an old and quiet place long before the Decepticons had come and driven everyone away by destroying the quiet government science installation. Things creaked and squeaked, the trees and their leaves rustled in the light wind, but luck was with them and no Decepticons came.

Jazz was exhausted by the time the night sounds began to fade and the scent of morning moisture filled the air. Peeking open his optic, he watched the mists rise from the overgrown field across the road. The small gap in the door hadn’t been noticeable last night, but he could see the early morning light spilling in through it. Prowl had been recharging approximately ten hours, a testament to how damaged he was and how badly he’d needed the rest, but Jazz had promised, and he needed to function with and _for_ Prowl. That meant not mother henning the most mother hen-able mech next to Prime.

“Prowl,” Jazz whispered, tightening his hand gently where it had remained on Prowl’s side all night. “Sun’s wakin’ up.” 

Prowl didn't respond at first, his systems slow to boot up. He dragged himself from recharge, blinking owlishly, and lifting his helm to stare around him in utter confusion. "Sun's- what?" he asked, turning to stare at Jazz, then frowning once he registered the damage he was seeing.

Prowl reached up without even thinking about it, and touched the side of Jazz's face below his damaged optic, then pulled his hand away. "Right... We were attacked. I'd almost forgotten." How he could forget the deep, throbbing pain where his doorwing should be, he didn't know though.

Jazz blinked as Prowl touched his face, then smirked a little. “Tell me I’m pretty, Prowler. Tell me that mean ol’ ‘Con didn’t smash away all my pretty.” He ended up snickering silently, and decided he did need some recharge. He was too punchy by half.

Prowl snorted a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he pushed himself more upright. "Yes, Jazz, you're still 'pretty'," he replied with a weak little smirk.

Jazz grinned in reply, then pulled two small emergency rations from his subspace, holding one out to Prowl while stuffing the other little cube into his mouth. “Hrmph.” Jazz chewed quickly instead of waiting for it to melt, then swallowed so he could speak. “Quiet night. I’ll grab a nap, an’ then maybe we can figure out the best course of action after?”

Prowl accepted the energon ration, and nodded. "Go ahead and get some recharge. I'll wake you if anything happens." He forced a smile as he popped the energon cube into his mouth, biting into it, then letting it dissolve slowly in his mouth. He felt more alert after recharging, but he was far from rested as _ugly_ dreams had haunted his recharge. 

Jazz curled up on his side, one arm stretched out so the back of his hand rested against Prowl’s hip where he sat. He left his sensors on, and forced himself into recharge, grateful at the very least that it was only the Decepticons out there. They couldn’t afford to hurt any humans, and despite the world leaders _wanting_ the Autobots to beat up the Decepticons, most people just blamed all Cybertronians now for the destruction and death. Jazz had intentionally kept his new alt mode from public knowledge for concern over being caught unawares by a human. They weren’t really the innocent, curious creatures the Autobots had teamed up with so long ago anymore. They were harder, less patient, and the only reason the Autobots had gotten away with staying on American soil a few years back during a really _bad_ time to be a mech, had been thanks to Cliffjumper snapping at a reporter that they’d been there first, long before humans even existed as a species, and damnit, it was _their_ fragging land.

Prime had been pissed. Jazz had tried to spin the PR angle on that somehow for a recovery, but then some other mechs began grumbling that Cliffjumper was right. The whole planet would be theirs had even one of them stayed online, or even woke during one of the earlier eruptions. It’d been a pretty unpopular opinion, but thankfully Prime was a voice of reason. Plus the few allies they had in the military had spoken up too, saying that it was _far_ better that America welcome the Autobots than, oh, say North Korea. Given how passionately Russia had tried to entice them in the Eighties, cooler heads prevailed, and Mount St. Hilary remained Autobot HQ.

And clearly Jazz wasn’t deeply enough into recharge if all that slag was spinning in his processors. Trusting Prowl, he shut down everything, and was soon recharging dreamlessly.

Prowl rested as comfortably as he could, watching over Jazz as he recharged. It had been rough yesterday. _Primus_ , if that wasn't the understatement to end all understatements!

Prowl thought back to the previous morning when Optimus, with Ratchet close behind him, had entered into his office. Prime had gently, but firmly, insisted he take the day off. He'd been working himself too hard the past six months and it was time for a break. Ratchet had backed Optimus up, insisting he was only going to wear himself down, and none of them could afford to have their best strategic mind burning itself out right now. Of course, Ratchet had also insisted that, as a friend, he was worried for Prowl and didn't like seeing the way he beat himself up over things he couldn't possibly have prevented. He'd tried to protest, told them he was fine, but they'd derailed him completely by inviting Jazz into the conversation.

Jazz always had a way of forcing him to look at things from an entirely unexpected perspective, especially when he really didn't _want_ to. Jazz was an excellent manipulator, there was no doubt about that, he was good at his job, and Prowl sometimes ended up on the business end of Jazz's skilled manipulations. This happened to be one of those times.

 _'Let's go for a drive, Prowler,'_ he'd said. _'Go watch the sun set out over the ocean. Watch the moon rise. It'll be great.'_

 _'The sun doesn't set for another fourteen hours,'_ Prowl had protested, but Jazz didn't care.

Eventually Jazz won and they'd left the _Ark_. They'd driven through the winding mountain roads of Oregon, toward the west coast, Jazz chatting away cheerfully as was his fashion. They headed toward Oswald West State Park, Jazz insisting the three hour long drive would be worth it, and they could just spend the day relaxing while being surrounded by the wonders of the Pacific Northwest.

They'd received some strange looks from the few humans that they'd encountered, but most of the two most northern states on the west coast had been all but abandoned in the last couple of years. Not many of the humans had stayed, save for their most loyal supporters, the U.S Military, and those few who were just too damn crazy to leave.

They had been attacked not long before sunset, both caught unprepared as six large, heavily armed Decepticons struck out from the forest beside the road. How they'd managed to get _that_ close, Prowl didn’t know, but they'd done some serious damage. He and Jazz had only just managed to escape and limp their way to Seaside, where they were currently holed up in an abandoned garage.

Prowl sighed softly, then peering through the opening in the garage door. He thought he'd heard something, but the only sound that reached him was the soft whistling of the salty, sea air as it blew through the gap. Their attackers were out there, he knew. If they hadn't figured out _where_ he and Jazz had gone yet, they would soon.

It was a couple hours later when Prowl gently nudged Jazz awake. "I hear voices. Someone shouting," he whispered, straining his audials to pick up the noise. "It's still a ways off but it's far too close for my liking."

Jazz woke instantly at Prowl’s touch, but stayed still from long practice and a spy’s instinct. Prowl, he identified, then gently eased on his passive scanners. “Frag,” he exhaled, opening his optics, and cursing internally that only the one worked. Not that he’d expected his cracked lenses to self-repair, but it would’ve been a nice surprise.

Pushing those thoughts away, Jazz silently lifted himself to his feet, staying low in a crouch. He gestured to Prowl, wanting him up as well, and held out his hands to help steady him.

It took Prowl a moment to regain his balance after letting Jazz help him up, and he automatically tried to flare his wing panels, only to be suddenly, _painfully_ , reminded that one of them was missing. He snapped his mouth shut, grinding his teeth, biting down on the pained cry that nearly escaped. He could move the other one just fine, but the stump couldn't help but twitch too, motor functions trying to maneuver a limb that no longer existed. He'd already manually shut down most of the vital functions for that wing panel, but he couldn't shut off instinctive movements.

Jazz leaned in close to Prowl’s audial, voice as soft a whisper as possible. “Three. North. Two blocks.” And they were too exposed despite the careful dampening fields all Autobots had installed now. They might be ‘stealth’ mode to the gills, but that wouldn’t stop a Decepticon from looking into the damn garage and _seeing_ them this close to the door. They were also too close for Jazz to transform, and Prowl couldn’t. That would be heard, not to mention the Decepticons knew what they looked like.

Slag. Jazz looked around, single optic grasping after the details.

Wait. He looked up. Rafters.

Prowl was going to kill him.

Looking back at Prowl, Jazz gave him his best shit-eating grin and pointed up.

Too close. "But there were six," Prowl heard himself saying as Jazz gave him that look that he'd grown to understand and be wary of over the thousands of vorns that they'd worked together. He looked up as Jazz pointed, and frowned, giving Jazz his most unamused look. Was he _seriously_ expecting Prowl to climb _up there_? He jabbed a finger up at the rafters and mouthed the words, _you can't possibly be serious_.

Jazz gestured around the garage, asking silently for a better plan. He was good with a better plan. Give him a better plan because rafters _sucked_ , but it’d give them a somewhat less obvious place to shoot from, and even that would only be a distraction, but then the Decepticons might not look up, then they’d be clear for a few hours, hopefully, to work out how to get home. Jazz’s self-repair wasn’t winning the battle against his communication system’s damage, so stall and sneak was pretty much their only option at the moment. He had… back-up plans, but they were messy, and Prowl couldn’t transform to drive away in a hurry. From what Jazz could see, the rafters were their best shot, but they needed to get moving if that was going to provide any hope.

Prowl couldn't help the slump of defeat. There was nothing inside their garage that would offer them a better solution, so he had no other choice but to somehow climb up into the rafters like a monkey, and pray they would hold his weight.

Scrubbing at his face with his hands, Prowl then straightened himself, tipping his helm to get a better look at the rafters above his head. He looked back at Jazz, then jerked his head at their intended perch. Best to get going, the look said. After you.

No, after you, Jazz gestured with a grin. Prowl lacked all his balancing skills, so Jazz would brace him from behind. He did lead the way to the main supports, heavy, wide beams that went up, and were braced with a diagonal beam to support the crossbeams that supported the roof. It didn’t _look_ like bad engineering, and despite the rust coating them -Primus, please don’t give Prowl and him rust rash- this place hadn’t been abandoned, or even built long enough, for the integrity of the metal to be compromised.

Keeping and optic on his passive scans and the Decepticons bitching rather loudly, Jazz motioned what he wanted, then laced his fingers together to give Prowl a boost up. Jazz could shimmy up silently, and he figured Prowl could too -on a good day- but today he might need the help. Small boost, grab the angled support, crawl up. They could do it.

Prowl cursed silently, stepping forward and planting his foot firmly in Jazz's laced fingers before pushing off the floor with the other. He snatched at the support beam as Jazz boosted him up, and used it to haul himself up the rest of the way onto the thick rafters above the floor. Thankfully the Decepticons seemed too busy bickering amongst themselves at the moment to have heard anything from the garage.

He still wondered where the other three Decepticons were. It bothered Prowl not knowing where half of the forces set against them had vanished to. He assumed they'd tracked them to the highway then split up once they reached US-26. Half came to Seaside, the rest were possibly lurking in the mountains heading east, waiting for them to stumble through so they could ambush the two injured Autobots before they could call for help.

Jazz waited below, wincing a little at the small scraping noises as Prowl got himself on top of the crossbeam, then hurried over to the other. One of them on a beam was more than enough, he figured. He took in where his handholds would be, then sprang up. A shimmy, a twist, and then a quick-like-a-squirrel shuffle, and Jazz was stretched out in the shadowy rafters. He pulled his blaster, and glanced at Prowl.

Shadows. Good. It could be better, but there was no light above them, nothing to cast their shape below, and from how far along the beams they’d moved, it really wouldn’t be easy to see them unless they were looked directly at, or moved at the wrong moment.

It was tense, but nothing either of them hadn’t experienced in some way before. Decepticons on the doorstep, still arguing, but the words were distinct now. Why did they have to keep looking for Autobots. They were probably long gone. Bitch, bitch. Whine, whine. Someone build these poor mechs a bridge so they can get the frag over it already. Of course, that attitude was _perfect_ for Jazz and Prowl, but it didn’t stop their sparks from slamming in their crystals as the garage’s door was lifted and a pair of red optics swept around the space.

Prowl sat frozen, joints locked tense, and ready to spring if necessary. He shut his optics as the Decepticons approached their hiding place, blaster drawn and ready to fire should the need arise. He could target a mech with his optics blind just by triangulating their location based on sound alone. That was one of the good things about his battle computer, an extremely high rate of accuracy. It had saved countless lives.

Prowl listened to the three mechs argue like sparklings over where he and Jazz had gone, one of them insisting that they should just go back to the highway, there wasn't anything _here_ , in this creepy abandoned place. He was apparently disturbed by how eerily similar a ruined Earth city looked to many of the ruined cities they left behind on Cybertron, and kept muttering about Empties waiting to shamble out of the shadows and eat them alive. Prowl would have laughed if the situation wasn't already so deadly serious.

The mention of Empties made Jazz smirk as the Decepticon pulled back, letting the door clang loudly back into place.

Empties… Yeah, he could work with that. Give him ten minutes and some parts, and he could run a terror mission tonight to be sure they fled the way they needed to so he and Prowl could get sneak out the other side. Clearly, they couldn’t go back out to the main highway, not with it being watched. They were going to have to slip out of town and creep through the back country.

Jazz glanced over at Prowl, listening as the Decepticons continued bickering as they moved on down the street, the door banging shut loudly behind them. He grinned, winking his working optic when Prowl opened his optics and looked over at him.

The expression on Jazz’s face was easy enough to read. Prowl knew what he was plotting, and shook his head in amusement at the very idea. Their enemy had given them a weapon to use against them. Sure it was a somewhat childish weapon, but it was enough of an advantage that they might actually make it out of town without being spotted. They'd need to avoid the main roads and highways though, which meant they'd have to do some hiking. Joy.

Prowl waited until he couldn't hear the Decepticons’ bickering any longer, then waited another ten minutes before trying to figure out how to get down without falling on his aft. He was not built for climbing and he had _no_ idea how Jazz managed to do this sort of thing every day of his life.

Jazz waited until Prowl moved, then swung down, hanging from the rafter. He paused, listening, then dropped lightly to his feet, letting his body fold easily into a crouch, a move he’d done thousands of times before, but not one Prowl should attempt in his current condition.

“Slide back,” Jazz whispered up to Prowl. “Come to me.” He’d need to help Prowl down, then they’d need to find a local map and some toys to mess with the Decepticons.

"I'm coming. Give me a moment," Prowl grumped softly, his already frayed nerves making him tremble a little. He slid over the side of the beam, being overly cautious as he moved. One false move and he'd slip, catch his bumper on the edge of the rafter, and flip himself onto his back. He'd done it before in his youth and wasn't keen on repeating it. Plus the noise of his crash would probably draw the Decepticons’ attention. He couldn't afford not to be careful.

It took far too much of their already limited, precious time, for him to slip over the edge of the rafter, using his feet to try and find Jazz so he wouldn't drop blindly and hurt himself more. Finally, once he was sure of Jazz's location, he lowered himself into Jazz's waiting arms and dropped from his hiding place.

Jazz chuckled softly, giving Prowl’s waist a little squeeze of a hug as his feet silently landed on the floor. “Hang here a sec.” He plucked gently at the cloth stuffed in Prowl’s damaged wing, free hand staying at his waist to hold him there. It got hung up, fluids having soaked into it and dried. Jazz winced as Prowl flinched a little, hearing the hiss as the cloth stuck.

Jazz carefully tucked the cloth back in. “Ok,” he whispered. “Looks like the bleedin’s stopped, but I’m not gonna risk pullin’ the cloth free and startin’ it back up.” Not to mention he didn’t want to hurt Prowl. “How ya feelin’?”

"I could be better," Prowl replied, easing himself away from Jazz’s hold. "I will be better when we put some distance between us and those hoodlums out there." He gestured toward the garage door, turning slightly to peer back at Jazz. "We shouldn't waste any more time."

“Can’t go hiein’ off out there just yet,” Jazz replied, still very careful to keep his voice low.

"I'm not suggesting we go now," Prowl said, glancing toward the door, knowing how foolish it would be to leave the safety of their shelter and risk exposing themselves to the Decepticons.

“So how do we use this? They sounded like they had a bit of experience with the Empties.” Jazz had too, and it was a fragging creepy-aft set of living nightmares he tried not to think on too often. “I’m thinkin’ we make some noise in the north, scare ‘em up there a bit if we can, then slip out the south. Duck inta the woods.” It was still early, so they had time to set up something. “Be set ta go at dusk when the light’s funny?” Empties came awake near dark after all.

"Leaving at dusk would be advisable. We can't use the south or north entrances to town, they'll probably be watching the roads."

Prowl cursed softly. "If we could only access the satellite networks.” He shook his helm. “What we need is a map of the town. If we could safely get to the northern end of town, we could probably use some of those old, abandoned vehicles as bait. Some of them may even still run."

Jazz looked around, thinking, then went and sat down. The old vehicles, if they were at all functional could be really helpful. “If I snuck off to some of these houses, maybe I could find some of those old alarm clocks. A little riggin’, and we wouldn’t have to be anywhere near them when the time came.” Of course that meant _him_ going out in the daylight, but they now had an idea of where three of the Decepticons were, with the assumption the others were out of town. Jazz was certainly more suited than Prowl, but he’d never get Prowl to sit still without something to do.

They had no communications, so no point fussing, but this was a garage. Jazz stood again, and walked over to the busted out window that led to the office and waiting area, and… Yes, right there on the stand. Jazz plucked a map off the dusty old rack, and moved back over to show Prowl. “This’ll help a bit. Know the town ain’t changed in a while.”

Prowl did _not_ like the idea of them separating. They were on their own out here with no back up if things took a turn for the worse. Unfortunately, Jazz's plan had merit. Using the alarm clocks would be far safer than setting off the bait manually. 

Prowl chuckled in amusement at a sudden thought. "It's a shame you don't carry around any recordings of zombie noises we could play over a P.A. system." He took the map from Jazz, carefully since it was human-sized and made of paper, thus extremely fragile, and started to unfold it.

Jazz let a slow, wicked smile curl over his lips. “Who says I ain’t got any recordin’s of zombie sounds?” He’d just need to figure out how to get the cars’ stereos to play it. He’d need to see the sound systems inside the vehicles, but it _should_ be possible. Even for just one or two.

"A little small, but it'll have to do," he said, kneeling and spreading the map out on the floor in front of him so he could read it better. He _vaguely_ remembered the street names the garage was on and scanned the delicate map for them.

"So, we're here," Prowl said, then paused, reaching into his subspace to pull out a small wax pencil so he could mark on the map without tearing it up. "We came in here. And the north highway is… here." He made a couple more small marks, then looked up at Jazz, frowning slightly. "Would you be able to make more than one of those timed devices?"

“Yeah, I’m thinkin’ I can manage three, maybe four in different spots up here.” Jazz pointed to where they came in. “Pits, they might even think we were taken by the Empties.” He snickered quietly, but the humor faded rather quickly. “I’ll see what I can find, and get back here by sunset.”

Jazz gave Prowl a serious look. “If full dark comes, and I ain’t back, you leave. One of us needs ta get back. They were _here_ , and that means the ‘Cons are up ta something the ‘Bots need ta know about. You leave, I’ll follow as fast as I can, but I might get pinned down somewhere and have ta wait ‘em out.” Or caught, or killed, and Prowl was in no condition to be running a rescue mission. “Show me the path ya’re thinkin’ about, then I’ll get goin’.”

Prowl frowned at Jazz's unspoken concern. He knew all too well their situation. Neither of them could rescue anyone in their current conditions. He agreed that the priority was to get back to base as quickly as possible and alert the others of the Decepticons’ activity here.

Nodding reluctantly, Prowl said, "The same goes for you.”

Prowl looked back down at the map, giving the surrounding area a thorough once-over. He sighed. "We're going to have to cut straight through the mountains heading east in order to avoid the main roads, toward Saddle Mountain State Park. The only problem here is that these two highways are linked by the 202. With the complaining they were doing, I doubt they'll cover every inch of these roads, but we'll need to be extra careful crossing here."

Jazz nodded. “Stayin’ off the main roads should do the trick. Shouldn’t underestimate ‘em, they might know these roads pretty well by now, but sneakin’ through the woods should give us some sorta advantage.”

Cycling his vents, Jazz pointed to a thin blue line. “Backup meeting place. I better get goin’.” He gave Prowl a hard look with his single working optic. “Be careful. I want both of us ta get outta here.”

Prowl sighed, folding the map back up while nodding. He stood, grabbing Jazz's wrist before he could leave. " _You_ be careful," he said, returning the look, then subspacing the map. "You're the one heading out there in broad daylight. The Autobots need you- _I_ need you. I can't lose anyone else."

He held on for an extra moment longer, knowing it was unnecessary, then released Jazz's wrist. He dropped his gaze, trying to hide the heat in his face. "I'll... see if I can't find anything around here that we can use while you're out."

Jazz blinked in surprise as Prowl looked away, but he smiled, hand sliding out along the underside of Prowl’s remaining doorwing. “Don’ worry, Prowler,” he said, careful to keep his voice chipper. “I like harassin’ ya too much ta let the ‘Cons have me yet.” He gave a final, playful tweak, then slipped through the busted window to the office, then -after a peek through the dirty glass- squeezed out another wide, broken pane. He needed to hit up a housewares store, or the residential area, then find some cars in the north.

"Just be careful," Prowl murmured quietly as he watched Jazz slip through the broken windows and out into the city. He knew Jazz was good at sneaking around in hostile territory, but even Jazz wasn't immune to bad timing.

Prowl forced himself to turn away from the office to search the interior of the garage. He wasn't completely helpless, even crippled as he was with his missing wing panel. There were all sorts of things one could find in a mechanic's garage that could be used as a weapon. Something to distract his mind at the very least.

Jazz crept northward, managing to find a busted up house with an old style alarm clock, then a store where he found a handful more. The Decepticons were still around, not really putting any effort into finding Autobots they didn’t believe were there anymore, but Jazz still had to duck down in a wreck of a backyard, hiding in the grungy water of a cracked and fragged pool. He managed to find four working vehicles and rig them to each go off at different times between six and seven in the evening. That was the hardest part because there were signs of other Decepticons around there in the north, though Jazz didn’t actually see them.

The sun was creeping toward the horizon as Jazz made his careful way back to the garage he’d left Prowl in. There hadn’t been any noise, so that was reassuring. Jazz was sure that if Prowl had been found the Decepticons would have been making quite a ruckus.

Sure enough the garage was silent when he arrived.

Jazz called Prowl’s name softly to announce his return, and wriggled his way back in the window he’d exited hours before.

"Over here," Prowl replied quietly, looking up from the map Jazz had given him earlier. He was relieved to see Jazz and some of the tension drained out of him. "I was beginning to worry I'd have to go on alone." He had spent much of his time planning their escape in more detail, determined that these three Decepticon slackers wouldn't catch them off guard again. 

"How did it go?" he asked, looking back down at the datapads spread out in front of him. "Things have been quiet on this end. So far at least. I've heard the occasional sound echoing from down the street, but it was too far away to make out what it was. I don't think it's anything we need to worry about yet at any rate."

“Nah,” Jazz said. “They’re a handful of blocks over from us to the east right now, and everythin’ went fine for me. Given where they’re at, we might wanna head on out now if ya’re ready.” They would have to move quietly, but they could get going before the fun started.

“I’ve got four Empties ready ta rumble and groan in the north. Should draw their attention starting at six, and then bounce around. They get brave though, it’s gonna cut inta our escape time. They’re gonna hafta be pretty dumb not ta pick up that someone’s messin’ with them before seven. Though I’d like ta be inta the trees way before that.” Jazz’s chrono said it was five-thirty already.

Prowl nodded, gathering up the map and his datapads, subspacing them before he stood. "They're already stupid enough not to search possible shelters thoroughly, so I'm counting us fortunate for that at least."

He moved to Jazz's side, giving him an uneasy smile. "If we stick to the alleys and keep the buildings between us and them, we shouldn't have much trouble reaching the forest before they catch on to your little trick." He paused to touch Jazz's face again. "Let's get home. It's hard seeing you like this."

Jazz purred softly, then playfully tipped his helm to nip Prowl’s finger. “Let me sneak out the way I came in, and once I’m sure it’s still clear, I’ll lift that door so you can come out.” Prowl wasn’t _that_ much bigger than Jazz, but his remaining doorwing and added height was enough to ensure he wouldn’t get out that window without making a racket.

Slipping back out carefully and quietly, Jazz ran his passive scanners at their maximum, then snuck around to the front of the garage again. There were no Decepticons close by, so he eased up the flap of metal.

Jazz the biter, Prowl thought with amusement as he watched him climb back out the window. That had been… interesting. He shook his helm and moved over to the garage doors, crouching to wait.

“Take it easy, and take your time. How’s that balance feelin’ t’day?”

"It's somewhat improved," Prowl replied as he crawled out, doorwing tucked close, then stood, though he still needed to brace himself on Jazz's shoulder before he was able to move again. His back still hurt, but at this point he was starting to get used to the pain. The agony of yesterday had dulled to a deep, constant throb, but he couldn't worry about a little pain just them. "I probably should have moved around more while you were gone, but I was concerned I'd knock something off the wall or bump into one of those metal tanks."

“Nah, that was a good idea cuz they’ve been all over today and would’ve heard ya.”

Jazz hooked his arm around Prowl’s waist, and they set off southwards. “My sensors’re dialed up, but you’re our optics and navigator.”

Prowl found it oddly comforting to be this close to Jazz as they trekked carefully through town. Sure, he and Jazz had been in dangerous situations before, and it wasn't as if they hadn't ever made physical contact in the past, but his perception was oddly distorted with his one sensor panel missing. Surely it was the stress and exhaustion making his processor do these weird mental flip flops. He had to keep re-focusing his thoughts on getting _out_ of the area because they _needed_ to get home and alert the others.

Jazz’s spark picked up in pace as they snuck-hurried through alleys and side streets toward the south side of the town. It was half an hour before he could see the trees, but then with another look around, they darted across a street along the side of a house, and toward the backyard that led right into the forest.

After reaching the relative safety of the woods, they had to turn east to avoid the highway and make their way back toward Saddle Mountain. It wasn't long before Prowl had to stop to recheck their direction though. Without working GPS it all had to be done manually, and in the fading daylight that was difficult. It would be all too easy to get themselves hopelessly lost in these massive state parks with trees bigger than themselves.

They were well hidden in the thick of the trees, but Jazz could now hear noises in the distance. It was hopefully the Decepticons fleeing his ‘Empties’. He wanted to sit down, let Prowl rest, not to mention it was getting even harder for him to see as it got darker, but they couldn’t stop yet. They were far too close to the town, and far too close to the Decepticons. “Doin’ ok there, Prowler?” he whispered.

"I'm fine, Jazz," Prowl replied in a tense whisper. He was straining his audials, and the rest of his sensors were reaching too, as he listened to the noise in the distance. His remaining wing was trembling which made the remains of his other hurt more. That pain crawled up and down his back in angry, spikey waves, but they couldn't stop yet. They still needed to put some distance between themselves and the Decepticons, but he knew he was already starting to wear down.

Prowl shook his head and forced himself to stand straighter. "Just keep me moving. Don't let me stop. As long as I can carry my own weight, I can keep moving."

Jazz frowned, worried about Prowl pushing too hard, but wasn’t that just every day? “Little further. Gonna be too dark ta move soon, and clompin’ through the woods is gonna be obvious.” There were just no _people_ anymore out here, and sound carried amazingly well through trees at night. One loud crack of a dry branch under their feet and the Decepticons would have a great idea about where they were.

Prowl knew Jazz wouldn't let him push too far. He also knew trying to tromp through the woods at night was a fool’s errand, but they had to travel as far as they could, and he trusted Jazz's judgment, and would stop when he said they needed to.

"We're too exposed," Prowl complained, looking around as his one working sensor panel twitched. "We need to head about fifteen degrees more north," he whispered, making a vague gesture in that direction. He was about to issue another slight course correction, but stopped himself. Jazz had better night vision than him, he really didn't need to do _too_ much. "There should be somewhere ahead we can hide for the night if nothing else."

Jazz adjusted their course, sensors sweeping in tight little arcs. Another few minutes of picking through the dense trees, and he spotted their best chance. “Can ya see that up there?” he whispered, pointing. To his single optic it was just a shadow, but his sensors said there was a ravine dipping down about seven feet, and if they crossed it, the overhang from the other side might offer them some protection from any Decepticons flying over.

Prowl squinted, frowning as he looked for whatever it was Jazz was looking at. His optics brightened slightly when he spotted the darker section of landscape where the ravine was located. "Yes. Yes, I see it," he replied. "That's perfect. Now if we can just get over there without either of us falling on our faces, we'll be golden."

Jazz grinned, carefully and lightly bumping his hip against Prowl’s. “Turn gold an’ you’ll make Sunstreaker jealous about not being the prettiest yellow Autobot anymore,” he teased.

"I don't feel terribly pretty right now," Prowl murmured. "And I certainly don't have all the flashy moves that _you_ do to compete anyway."

They made it down the slope of the ravine and to the grassy, soft ground under the overhand of the opposite side. Jazz braced his legs, balanced to help Prowl sit without jarring himself too badly, and whispered, “I’ll take first watch again. You can get a nap.” Pits, it was still early, but the sun would be up around five-forty if his guess was right, and then they could start moving again.

Prowl sat gratefully, and let his optics close, a soft sigh escaping from his vents as he sagged closer to the ground. "Are you sure? You need recharge just as much as I do, and I hate to think you're giving up any opportunity to rest when we both need as much of it as we can get."

Jazz sat beside Prowl, sliding his arm around his waist. “I’m fine right now, and one of us oughta keep watch. Ya get some rest.” He scooted closer, grinning in the dark, optic winking. “I’ll even be your pillow,” he said, lightly tapping his shoulder. It was chillier in the woods, damp, and they could share body warmth as well as stay close so they both knew the other was all right.

Prowl was a bit hesitant, not because he didn't trust Jazz, but he just wasn't sure if he should allow Jazz to forego recharge this way. He knew he'd be needing Jazz's quick mind and reflexes before they got even halfway back to base. Exhaustion finally won out, however, and Prowl shifted, snuggling a bit closer and letting his helm settle on Jazz's shoulder. "If you insist," he sighed, then slipped offline.

Tipping his helm a little, Jazz let it rest on Prowl’s. His sensors continued their passive sweeps, and he kept his audials dialed up, but the night was quiet, and frankly -blessedly- boring.

Jazz let Prowl sleep for about six hours, then woke him so he could get a few hours of recharge too. “Hey. Prowler,” he murmured next to an audial and gave Prowl’s waist a slight squeeze. “Your turn for watch, my mech.”

Prowl purred softly as Jazz whispered in his audial. Despite everything, he was surprisingly relaxed and woke slowly, optics dim and flickering as they opened and came online. Was it time to go already? No. No, it was still dark.

Whispering a thank you at Jazz, Prowl sat up and scrubbed at his face. Shame he wouldn't be able to finish that dream, it’d been nice. Shame too, that it’d already slipped away. All he could recall was that Jazz was there, and they had been _safe_.

Jazz smiled at the purr, and as Prowl straightened up, he promptly tucked his helm down on his shoulder. “No signs, no sounds. They ain’t over this way lookin’ at least.”

"They're probably still searching the town, or near to it at least. Though we're still too close for my comfort." Prowl yawned, and wrapped an arm around Jazz's waist, welcoming the warmth they both shared. It was even cooler now that the sun had been down for a while and all the warmth from the day had dissipated into the clear night sky. He could see the moon and all the stars shining from high above the tree tops. It was a beautiful night, and Prowl wished he could actually enjoy it without the threat of discovery hovering over them like a fog.

Jazz hummed softly in agreement. “Wake me if ya hear anythin’ odd, or when the sky starts ta get lighter, whichever comes first.”

"You know I will," Prowl whispered, letting air vent softly as Jazz cuddled in, rather comfortable and relaxed, his weight sinking in more against him. Prowl reached up to absently pet Jazz’s helm, and purred softly until he knew he was fully in recharge.

Prowl dialed his sensors up to full power and sat listening, watching, waiting for daylight to come. Thankfully, all he heard were the sounds of nature. There was the singular snap of a twig as a deer passed close to their hiding spot, an owl hooted somewhere off in the trees, and the wind blew lightly, rustling leaves in the canopy above, but no mechs. No heavy footsteps. No engines growling in irritation. And no Decepticons flying overhead.

The sky was turning a beautiful pink to the east and painting the landscape in warm, welcoming colors, and the first bird sounds of the morning began, one exuberant little sparrow startling Prowl as he chirped directly overhead, perched on some flimsy looking twig growing out of a crack in the overhang.

"Good morning to you too," Prowl muttered, then gently nudged Jazz awake. "The sun's rising," he whispered. "I think it's time we did the same."

Jazz inhaled deeply, then purred, burrowing into Prowl’s neck a little. The morning smelled fresh and green and damp, but Prowl, despite his wounds, smelled of warm oil. Jazz could scent the energon blood too, but the burnt smell of damaged wiring was gone, so that was a plus. Nothing would fix a missing doorwing except a new one, but Prowl’s self-repair must be taking care of him, and that was a bit of positive news.

“S’pose ya’re right, but I’m pretty comfy,” Jazz said with a smile.

"Mmn. Comfortable or not, Jazz," Prowl said, "we should get going. We're not anywhere near home, and can't afford to let our guards down. We can't hope to win against six armed Decepticons in direct combat, especially not in our condition." He nudged Jazz again, then reached up to lightly pinch an audial horn. "Now. Up. Or I'm going to find a way to dump you backwards onto the ground."

Jazz chuckled softly, and climbed to his feet. “Damn ‘Cons,” he whispered, reaching down to help Prowl up. “Always cuttin’ in on my cuddlin’ time.”

He looked around, scanners on, audial gain up, but it was just a forest in the predawn hours of morning. If there were Decepticons close, they were keeping really quiet and using new style dampening fields, which Jazz _really_ hoped they hadn’t worked out yet. It’d taken him and Mirage some pretty trickery to get those plans, and the science mechs a damn lot of effort to crack the codes.

“Which way?”

"I'm rubbish at climbing," Prowl said. He stood with Jazz's help, then turned to face the edge of the ravine they had sheltered under. "We'll have to find a way around that." He pointed up at the lip of the overhang. "Let's keep in the shelter of the ravine here for now and follow it north. Perhaps we can find a trail of some sort that'll cut through this cliff and lead to the top. Or at least an easier climb up. Then we continue east toward the mountain. Toward home."

Jazz nodded, then carefully set off. The bottom of the ravine was filled with old leaves, which thankfully muted the sounds of their footsteps, and with the birds beginning to make some noise, he was confident enough to move along a bit faster than the night before. The ridge stayed above them, a solid twenty feet or more, but it would have to change eventually.

About an hour after sunrise, the mists were all burned off and the ground began to rise under their feet. The ridge smoothed out, and soon it was a steep hill, then not much farther on it became something Jazz felt comfortable waving Prowl up.

Another pause at the top to listen since they no longer had the ground helping to hide them, and off they set eastward.

~ | ~

For two days Prowl and Jazz traveled in much the same way they did the first night, creeping through the wilderness, listening, moving as quietly as possible with as much speed as they could safely muster. They traveled as if they were being followed. It was best to assume so, even when the chances of actual pursuit were unlikely given they had gone this long unmolested. Decepticons didn't usually have the patience to remain silent this long while on the hunt. They tended to like to verbally or physically harass their prey as they drove them toward their doom.

When they weren't moving, they were recharging, relatively peacefully, without anything of note happening to give them cause for worry. Prowl worried anyway, and assumed Jazz did as well. The Decepticons were out there, somewhere, doing something. He hated the unknown. Those variables were far too large to give him any peace of mind.

By the third morning Prowl was starting to get paranoid. Nothing had happened for three days. Things were never this easy. They were _never_ this lucky. Every time he heard a rustle in the trees ahead of them, or behind them, he'd flinch and try to see where the sound had come from. It always turned out to be natural. A frightened deer, a coyote, some bird or other. Something of that nature. Something _of_ nature.

Both of them were smudged with dirt, and Prowl had somehow managed to get soft forest moss caught in his ankle. It irritated him until he finally called a halt, sat down and yanked it out. He was sure he'd missed some though.

It seemed like the day was dragging on forever until Prowl stopped short, his working sensor panel snapping out as he turned his attention toward the sky. "Jazz!" he hissed, hand lashing out to grab Jazz’s arm. "Listen!"

Jazz froze in the same moment that Prowl’s doorwing perked to attention. “Yeah.” He could hear it.

The trees were thinner as they headed into the foothills of the mountain in their path. “Seekers.” Jazz looked around desperately, wanting to find a place to crouch down while drawing his blaster. “Ideas?”

There was the briefest flash of panic in Prowl's optics before he shut it all down, his expression changing to stoic and flat as he also drew his blaster, trying to angle his remaining wing to help him find a more defensible position, or somewhere to fragging _hide_.

"To your left," he hissed. "Rock formation about 100 yards upslope. Do you see that rock formation with the overhang?" The jet engines were getting closer, but still far enough off that they might make it, if only just.

Jazz was already moving to his left before Prowl finished talking. He trusted Prowl completely, and had already gone a dozen steps before his optic spotted the rocky outcropping. It was a damn slim chance, but the way the jet engines were echoing, he and Prowl _might_ just make it. Of course, that was before he crested the rise and spotted the lake.

“Prowler! We got an issue.” Not that there was any time to waste, glancing both ways, Jazz ran left again, the curve of the lake looking longer and the terrain rougher to the right. They weren’t going to make it. Jazz knew it. He could hear the jets getting closer, and there was _no_ way they were human. Not up here. Not in this day and age.

Prowl cursed, stumbling as he ran with Jazz. He recovered quickly, but it still cost them time they did not have. They weren’t going to make it.

They were so slagged.

Completely and utterly, without question, slagged, and Prowl felt his spark sink with the knowledge. They’d come so far.

Prowl glanced over his shoulder just in time to spot the all too familiar blue and black of a certain pair of Seekers. Time seemed to stop for him. There was the briefest hesitation, as if the two Seekers were surprised to see them, before Thundercracker opened fire.

Prowl shouted and shoved Jazz out of the way as weapons fire exploded right where he had been, showering them both with sharp fragments rock. Prowl was thrown sideways, and tumbled back the direction they had come. He slid a few feet on his aft before scrambling back up and after Jazz again.

Skywarp whooped, diving down toward the Autobots. “Lookie what we found~” He transformed, laughing as he saw Jazz reach back for Prowl. “Gotcha!” he crowed, snatching Prowl away from the ground, then arcing into the sky over the lake.

Prowl let out a yelp as he was lifted off the ground, optics growing wide and pale as the ground receded beneath them. His vents cycled rapidly, and he clutched at the arm around his middle. "Put me down!"

Skywarp prodded the busted doorwing. “Ooo~ Bet that hurts like slag, huh?” He laughed as Prowl cried out in pain, then looked over at Thundercracker. “TC! I got- Hey!” Skywarp jerked to the side, and scowled down at Jazz. “Missed, fragger!”

"Put me down this instant!" Prowl hissed, twisting his helm to glare up at Skywarp, trying his damnedest not to look or sound as terrified as he actually was.

"About time," Thundercracker said with a huff as he transformed, hovering in midair and eyeing Prowl. He looked down at Jazz and narrowed his optics before shooting at the mech's feet. "Do that again, and I'm going to make sure the next one hits you right between the optics."

He was tempted to shoot Jazz anyway, although _killing_ the mech would go against orders. They hadn't been sent out specifically to find these two Autobots, but all the Decepticons in the area had been alerted to their appearance some distance away, and that they were both wanted _alive_.

Jazz growled, helpless on the ground. “That was a warnin’ shot,” he shouted, blaster still up. “Put him down an’ I promise not to slit your throat in the dark some night.” And now he was lying out his aft, because he was already planning the infiltration to do exactly that.

“Missed on purpose. Pff. Who does that?” Skywarp shifted his angle, placing Prowl between himself and Jazz though, but then he got an idea. “Hey, TC! Wanna play a game?” He peeled Prowl’s hands off his arm, or tried. He ended up having to just let go, and then grab the Autobot’s ankles. He swung him a bit. “Here! Catch!”

"Wait! No!"

Skywarp spun, trying to gain some momentum, and then threw Prowl. His aim was a bit off.

"The frag you doing?" Thundercracker gave Skywarp an incredulous look as he _threw_ Prowl at him. He thought about catching him, then changed his mind and actually moved out of the way as Prowl went sailing past.

 _Oops. Sorry boss. I wasn't able to catch him before he hit the water,_ he thought as he dispassionately watched Prowl plummet into the icy lake below.

Prowl sucked in a breath of air as he was thrown, too stunned to scream at first. At least until his trajectory had him plummeting toward the surface of the lake. Instinctively, he tried to turn so his wing wouldn't hit the water, but it did no good.

He screamed as he collided with the surface of the lake, the water tearing at his remaining sensor panel, yanking the hinge joint loose. By some minor blessing the wires and tubing feeding into the panel remained intact, but Prowl was blinded, again, by searing agony and choked on ice cold water as it filled his vents, and he sank toward the bottom.

Jazz stared in genuine shock for an instant, but he was moving before Prowl hit the water. He’d never heard Prowl scream before, and it iced his lines more than the frigid water as he dove in. He pushed his scanners hard, actively searching because Prowl would feel it, he would know Jazz was coming. Primus!

Skywarp watched the Autobots, then turned to stare at Thundercracker, helm tilted, mouth and hands opening questioningly. “What the frag was that? Why didn’t you try to catch him?! Geez, TC!” He looked down where Prowl had disappeared into the dark water. “Well slag you, glitch for brains, I’m not going into _that_ to get him!”

"Are you kidding me?" Thundercracker asked, lifting an optic ridge at his trinemate. "He was covered in filth. I'm not touching that organic slag. Let his friend fish him out. By the time they come back to the shore they'll both be too exhausted to do much fighting." _Or something like that,_ he thought.

Unable to see anything other than ripples on the surface, Skywarp shook his helm at Thundercracker. “Princess. Primus, and I thought Screamer was the whiny, vain one. Oh _no_! It’s icky!” He flew toward the bank, and plopped his aft to the ground. “Well, call those idiots that lost them a few days ago and tell them to get their afts over here.”

"Stop your bitching, _Warp_ , or I'm shoving you in after them," Thundercracker growled, landing heavily beside his trine mate. He was sorely tempted to plant his foot right in the middle of Skywarp's back and kick the fragger into the water.

He didn't though. Instead he sent a comm to the glitches who lost the two Autobots so easily the other day, and told them if they didn't get their afts down here, pronto, he'd personally see them flung in the lake to fetch their prey after weighing them down by throwing boulders in over the top of them.

Prowl had blacked out after hitting the water, but the insistent push against his sensornet from Jazz as he searched for him dragged him back to a semblance of consciousness. He felt himself come to rest on something soft, silty, but there were still plenty of lumpy, uncomfortable stony bits beneath him too.

It was far too late to seal his vents against the water, and Prowl’s helm felt heavy. There was an uncomfortable pressure where normally air should be. The cold made his head hurt more, and it sapped his strength, making all of his movements painfully slow. He felt sick and dizzy, and couldn't see through the dark water.

Nothing was really working as it should, not with both his sensor panels so seriously damaged. Prowl reached out with his active scanners, but that was painful too, it sent strong feedback from his damaged sensor panel, nearly making him blackout a second time, even as he tried to struggle to his feet.

Jazz hurried toward Prowl, and felt weak with relief when he finally put his hands on smooth metal. Now to get them out. He had to reorient himself, but finally decided on a direction that would lead them to that rocky outcropping. It wouldn’t really save them, but it might give them a fighting chance. They certainly couldn’t just sit still in the water. It was cool enough that they didn’t need air, but Jazz had no idea what condition Prowl was in, and the water was too murky to see through. Luckily, at about seventy feet down, the Seekers weren’t likely to come after them personally, but backup couldn’t be that far away.

Jazz wasn’t one to say die, however, so tugged on Prowl’s arm to get him moving.

Prowl shivered, and grabbed at Jazz as soon as he was within reach. He nearly collapsed against him in relief when Jazz started leading him along the bottom of lake. He couldn't be sure which way was up right now, other than the fact his feet were firmly on the ground- or what passed for it when you were underwater. Unfortunately, the pull of the water sent sharp jags of pain along his doorwing, the damaged panel hanging useless behind him.

Jazz kept them moving, scanners working over the lake bed so they didn’t come along any nasty surprises, but it was fairly smooth. It dipped a little deeper, but then quickly rose. Jazz kept his arm around Prowl’s waist, worried for him, but the slow place was fine. He didn’t know where the Decepticons were, and looking up at the sky above showed nothing through forty feet of water.

Once they reached the point that the surface was only a few feet over their heads, Jazz paused to sit Prowl down. He needed to get a look around. The Decepticons _should_ be able to see them if they were overhead still, so if they weren’t attacking, that meant that they probably weren’t still airborne.

Jazz crawled forward, keeping low, then slowly broke the surface. The water was choppy in a strong wind that’d picked up, and above he could see the sky clouding over. A storm could be good, and there were no Seekers. He risked coming up a little higher, and finally spotted Skywarp and Thundercracker on the far bank. Not much space for Seekers to cover, but Skywarp was on his back staring up, and Thundercracker was looking off to the southern end of the lake.

Jazz slowly sunk back under, and crawled back to Prowl.

Prowl clutched weakly at Jazz, almost delirious with pain, glancing up at the surface of the water above them. Please tell me we can reach shelter, he begged silently, looking back at Jazz with pale, dim optics. He just wanted to lay down, curl into a ball of agony, and sob until everything stopped _hurting_.

Jazz braced Prowl as best as he could as they finally broke the choppy surface. The sky was darkening fast, and a quick glance showed the Decepticons were still not paying attention. Primus, the idiots, and that wasn’t a complaint. After watching Prowl plummet into the lake, Jazz was wishing all of Megatron’s wrath on the bastards. He kept glancing back though, as he pulled Prowl up the slope of the mountain and toward the rocks. The landscape and the coming storm just might save their afts.

Prowl half crawled to his feet and was half dragged up the slope, biting back a whimper as gravity pulled at his damaged wing. The pain was only compounded by the way it dragged against the ground on occasion, or bumped an inconveniently placed rock jutting out of the ground. Jazz did his best to prevent these things from happening, but even he couldn't stop it completely.

On top of all of that, he still had all that icy cold water in his ventilation system. Prowl couldn't release any of it until they were safely out of reach of the Seekers, or he'd draw attention to themselves as he coughed and purged all of that water back up.

Just as they reached the opening Prowl tensed, hearing Thundercracker shouting as he spotted them, "Hey Warp! Afthead, they're getting away!"

"Hurry, Jazz," Prowl whispered, voice scratchy, and his body decided that was the cue, at the worst possible moment, to start ridding itself of all that water.

Jazz heard the thrusters, and with a curse and apology, yanked Prowl up the last bit, intending to pull Prowl with him as he fell behind the boulders. Over Prowl’s shoulder he saw Thundercracker and Skywarp rocketing toward them. He saw the blaze of their plasma bolts as the world tipped, gravity catching and pulling him to his back.

The ground was _not_ where Jazz expected it to be, and he yelped as he landed, more or less upside down, and _slid_ -painfully- down into the darkness with Prowl on top of him and rocks grinding into his back. The shots hit their mark and more followed. Jazz’s shoulder caught, and he was flipped, Prowl with him, and the light from above disappeared in a rumble.

Prowl let out a scream, his injured wing smacking and scraping against rocks as they went. He finally blacked out altogether as the rubble fell in on top of them.

Jazz didn’t know how long they lay, he didn’t exactly remember coming to a halt. It was pitch black, and he couldn’t hear anything beyond the stressed gurgle-wheeze of Prowl’s systems, and his own energon pounding through his lines.

He took a moment, then sat up, gravel and rocks rattled as the fell off him, but luckily both headlights came on when he tried. “Oh, Prowl,” he said softly. He felt horrible for Prowl, and carefully leaned over him. It all sucked slag, but the one positive was that Prowl was lying on his front. Jazz angled so his lights shined down and carefully removed the gravel and grit from Prowl wing hinge.

“I’m sorry, my mech, but this’s gonna hurt like slag.” Jazz gently lifted the battered wing panel and fitted it back against the hinge. A deep breath, a prayer to Primus thanking him for Prowl being knocked out, and then he pushed slowly, increasing the weight he used until the pop-clang of Prowl’s doorwing sounded, the hinge reset, but the sound setting Jazz’s teeth on edge. He carefully laid the wing out to the side, then set about unburying Prowl’s feet and lower leg from the gravel.

Prowl was unconscious for a while, having hit his helm at some point on the way down. It wasn't a serious injury, but it certainly didn't help. The dent in his helm hurt, but it was the thick, throbbing agony in his back that eventually pulled him from the cool embrace of unconsciousness.

He groaned, his tanks rolling, threatening to empty everything all over the hard, cold floor of their... cave? Purging was probably a good idea anyway since he was fairly certain he'd swallowed a fair bit of water when he hit the lake. He shivered and whimpered, going into a violent fit of coughing as his body tried to force the rest of the water out of his vents, which only made everything hurt _more_! He made a gagging, choking sound, but somehow managed not to contaminate the floor with what remained of his energon rations from earlier that morning.

“Shh… Easy, Prowl. Easy.” Jazz rested his hand lightly on the back of Prowl’s neck, braced up on his other elbow. Relief flooded him as Prowl woke and cleared his vents, and Jazz was more than prepared to move them deeper into the cave if Prowl purged, which was common after a flooding. Who knew how much water was in his tanks? Not that it couldn’t eventually be cycled out, but it wasn’t that hot in the cavern, and the water played havoc with refueling and processing energon.

Jazz leaned close, almost cuddling in against Prowl’s side, and rested his helm against Prowl’s. “Shh. We’re ok.” Which wasn’t really a lie. They were ok for the moment. No one was trying to unbury them, which would only be the Decepticons at this point. They were able to move around a bit. They had fuel, and they’d been gone long enough for the other Autobots to be looking for them. They could almost hang tight where they were for a few days, then dig themselves out. They were ok.

Prowl was tempted to make some snide remark about being 'ok', and how that condition was debatable at the moment. Unfortunately, when he opened his mouth to actually reply he had to turn his head away as his system took the momentary distraction to expel the water from his tanks.

Lovely.

Disgusting as it was, it was almost a relief to finally be rid of it, but he didn't feel any less nauseous. Even the slightest movement made the pain in his back flare angrily, making every other little scratch and dent feel three times worse than it already did.

Jazz pushed himself up, giving the back of Prowl’s neck a little squeeze. “Come on. We should get away from the rock slide just in case it shifts.” He also wasn’t about to leave Prowl lying beside a puddle of half-processed, grungy, lake-watered energon. He stood, got a grip on Prowl and pulled gently. “Up ya get. Com’on, Prowler. Can get a good nap in toward the back, gets sandy again in one spot. Not gonna do what’s left of our finishes any favors, but it’ll be softer than rocks, yeah?”

"Can't," Prowl protested, barely even putting any effort into helping Jazz pull him up. He was completely wrecked, all his energy sapped from the freezing lake and the incredible pain he was in. He could barely lift his head, and the only thing he wanted to do was curl up and recharge. He moved his legs, but every time he tried to take a step forward his knees gave out. After a couple of steps, he just couldn't take it anymore and started to cry, silent tears streaking his face.

Jazz braced his legs as Prowl’s gave out again, keeping them from just collapsing to the ground. Once he was sure he had his balance, he glanced at Prowl’s face to see if he was still conscious and almost dropped him in shock. Prowl didn’t cry, and Jazz’s whole spark warred against the mere concept.

Well, here was just going to have to be close enough.

Jazz eased them down to sit the floor, arms around Prowl’s middle to hold him close, letting his helm rest on his shoulder. “It’s ok, sweetspark. I promise ya, we’re gonna get outta here, an’ then Ratch’ll fix ya right up.” He rocked a little. Desperate to soothe Prowl, Jazz even tipped his face around to kissed away the tears. “It’s ok. We’re ok,” he repeated, voice soft by Prowl’s audial, their cheeks pressed together. “My poor Prowler. You’ll be ok.”

Prowl dissolved into quiet sobbing, his entire frame trembling as he buried his face into Jazz's shoulder, clutching at his frame. Later, he could be embarrassed, even ashamed of letting his emotions control him this way, but he was just _so exhausted_ he couldn't seem to fight the overwhelming need to just _sob_ into the closest, comforting warmth he could. 

He believed that they'd eventually be fine, and make their way back to base, and Ratchet would fix everything good as new. Or well, he'd probably have to fabricate Prowl a new doorwing, but once it was completed, he'd be perfectly fine again. But right only pain and exhaustion existed, and the lingering cold from the water he'd been flung so sparklessly into.

Jazz held Prowl, and rocked slowly side to side. He didn’t know what to do. If it were _anyone_ else -Pits, Prime included because they were just _waiting_ for that mech to breakdown and bawl- he thought he’d know how to handle it. Jazz prided himself on being adaptable, but he hadn’t even considered _Prowl_ crying on him before as a possibility. He felt helpless and useless. He wanted to make it all better, because if there was a mech _ever_ to have existed that Jazz respected more than Prowl, or thought deserved to never suffer from pain, he couldn’t remember him.

He finally just started humming. It was a bit selfish because Jazz liked music, but he didn’t know what else to do. His Prowler was hurting, and that made his spark ache, and damnit, he wanted them both to feel better. So he hummed some old, silly, soft little lullaby until he could remember the words, then sang it in low, gentle tones while he continued to rock them.

The humming helped, and after a few moments of the soothing sound of Jazz's voice, and the gentle rocking, Prowl finally calmed down enough to just cling to his friend and only sniffle occasionally.

He felt foolish and pathetic, but even he wasn't immune to emotional breakdowns, even if he pretended to be. He just normally didn't have them when anyone was looking. He preferred to do these sorts of things alone, out of sight of anyone else, but that wasn't possible here, and now Jazz had seen him completely vulnerable and momentarily broken, and Prowl didn’t quite know what to do with that.

"I'm sorry," Prowl whispered. "I shouldn't... be putting you through this."

Jazz let the song fade, and kissed Prowl’s cheek again. “Don’ be.” He cuddled Prowl warmly, rather enjoying the closeness. They still had a ways to go to be home and safe, but for the moment, they were about as safe as they could be. The Decepticons probably figured they were dead. The rock was blocking Jazz’s sensors, and the Seekers certainly didn’t have as sensitive systems as he did.

“We really oughta be safe here for now. Think ya could get some recharge if we laid down?”

"Maybe," Prowl whispered, shivering again as he clutched Jazz a bit tighter. "I'm so cold recharge might be a little difficult, but I don't know if I can keep myself online much longer anyway."

It felt nice though, having Jazz wrapped around him like this. He hadn't always liked the mech, but Jazz was one of those personalities that eventually grew on you. Either that, or you ended up at each other's throats, trying to tear each other's heads off. Sometimes he wanted to give Jazz a good, firm kick in the aft, but he'd gotten used to the mech's strange behaviors and even grew to, privately, enjoy his sense of humor.

Over time, Jazz had become one of his closest friends. Prowl wasn't entirely sure _how_ that even happened, he was just glad Jazz was here with him instead of some other mech.

“Com’on then,” Jazz murmured, leaning to the side and twisting so Prowl stayed over him as he laid down. He didn’t want to jar the doorwing, so Prowl lying on his back was out of the question. “Nowhere ta go right now, so I’ll just be your pillow and the sexiest space heater ever, ok?”

He reached into his subspace and pulled out two of the gelled ration cubes. “Think your tanks can handle one?” Jazz asked, looking up at Prowl as he pushed one into his mouth. He _could_ kick up his internal temperature a little bit, but he’d need fuel to do it. It wasn’t _so_ cold in the cave, but the rock certainly didn’t radiate any warmth.

"Maybe," Prowl replied, eyeing the energon as Jazz offered it to him. He probably should take it. He'd left most of his breakfast in a big puddle of water on the floor a short distance away. "I'm going to need the fuel anyway." He took the offered ration and popped it into his mouth, deciding to suck on it slowly and let it dissolve into his systems without burdening his tank with an entire ration all at once. He sighed, and tried to snuggle into Jazz after that, letting his optics dim and slide shut. "Maybe everything'll hurt less after some recharge."

Jazz curled on his side, wrapping himself carefully around Prowl, one arm under his neck. “Yeah. Get some rest.” He pushed his internal temperature up a few degrees, nothing dangerous or that’d make Ratchet huff, but that would, slowly, radiate out from him and warm the air around the both of them. Jazz hummed under his breath again, nuzzling Prowl’s helm, faces close. It was comfortable and comforting if quite a bit beyond the norm, but he didn’t mind. He hummed his lullabies, and waited for Prowl to recharge so he could rest too.

~

It was several hours later when Prowl stirred. He first became aware of how warm and comfortable he felt. The pain from earlier had become a constant, dull throb. It wasn't anywhere as bad as it had been, but then, he wasn't moving either. Prowl didn't want to wake up, not yet. He was too comfortable. It almost felt like he was floating on a cloud… never mind how illogical that sounded, he didn't care. So he snuggled closer, nuzzling into that warmth, drifting in that warm fuzzy place caught between waking and recharging, and unwilling to leave it just yet.

Jazz woke a little as he felt movement, but he was tired and didn’t want to wake up. It wasn’t his usual thing to push aside waking to see what was going on, but he was so warm and comfortable. He could feel warm air drift lightly over his face, and smiled a little. He wasn’t conscious enough to remember who was in his berth with him, but he was very pleased they were still there.

Half dreaming, Jazz tipped his helm just that last little bit, closing the space. His lips lightly touched another soft pair, and with a quiet, barely-there sound, he pressed forward a little more.

Prowl hummed softly as something warm and smooth touched his lips. It felt nice, and he wanted to enjoy it a little longer so he pressed closer, purring lightly, lips parting to invite more contact. His grip shifted, tightening just a little, but when his wing scraped against the ground, he gasped as a bright jagged line of pain shot over his sensornet.

Optics snapping open in surprised pain, Prowl stared blearily at the face that hovered so close in front of him. It took him several moments before his optics could focus well enough to even recognize the owner of the face, and then he just stared in confusion. "Jazz?"

The sharp gasp snapped Jazz out of his dream, and he stared at Prowl. “Ya ok, Prowler?” he asked. Slag! What’d he been dreaming about? His lips tingled, his spark was pulsing faster, and he felt a very distinct heat down between his legs.

Only ages of practice in not showing a reaction kept the mortified blush from rising in his face. “How ya feelin’?” Jazz asked, hands gentle on Prowl, because even if he’d been making an aft of himself while recharging, he was awake now, and Prowl was his priority, not some dream arousal.

He'd been kissing _Jazz_! Or was it the other way around? Whatever the case, Prowl had responded readily enough- until his wing scraped the ground. He was silent for a moment, unable to hide the heat that colored his face, then reset his vocalizer. Jazz was expecting an answer, so he should probably give him one.

"I'm fine, Jazz," Prowl said, blushing a bit hotter when he realized he rather enjoyed the effect that kiss was having on him. "I just... scraped my wing on the floor of-" He frowned and looked around at the surrounding darkness. "This cave..."

Jazz tried his best not to smile, but Prowl was downright adorable when he blushed. It made him want to cause it again. “Ah,” he said by way of vague response, then settled back down, arms hugging just a little more, face still close. “Chrono says it’s only been about four hours. Can rest a bit more if ya need it, or we can explore a little if ya’re up for it?”

"I..." Prowl reset his vocalizer again. "I don't feel like exploring the cave," he said. "Although it would probably be the most advisable course of action if we want to find a way out of here that doesn’t involve digging our way through all that rubble."

Prowl just wasn’t over it. Holy frag, he'd been kissing _Jazz_! And he found it strange that he wanted to do it again! He shut his optics and hoped Jazz wouldn't notice the slight shift in color. He couldn't find a more inappropriate moment to be turned on, could he? Well, he probably _could_ , but this was still pretty high on the 'What the fragging _Pit_ are you thinking?' scale. Especially when he was missing pieces and all beat to slag.

Jazz nodded, forehelm against Prowl’s chevron and the motion making the tip of his nose slide against Prowl’s. His lips almost ached for more contact, but that was all kinds of wrong. Prowl was injured and emotionally vulnerable. No matter how much Jazz wanted to just… _some_ thing to make them both feel better, kissing couldn’t possibly be the right answer just then.

“No problem,” he said. “I’m pretty comfy.” Turn it into something playful. Something not-sexy. Jazz cuddled Prowl, tipping his face away a little to avoid further temptation, and purred. “Ya make an awesome teddy bear, anyone ever tell ya that?” He could explore the cavern a little himself once Prowl was calm and resting, or feeling more energetic.

Prowl frowned, the confusion obvious, even before he opened his optics. "Teddy bear?" he asked. "Who in the nine hells-?" He laughed softly and shook his head. "No, Jazz. I can honestly say I've never had anyone tell me that before. Not that I'm in the habit of _snuggling_ with my crew mates."

“And ain’t that a cryin’ shame!” Jazz burrowed in more, careful not to rattle Prowl around too much and upset his doorwing. “Ya’re real good at it. They’re all missin’ out. I think once we get back, this’ll have ta become ‘A Thing’.”

Prowl was certain his face would suddenly burst into flames, but managed to somehow keep his voice steady as he spoke. "Well that's debatable. I don't see how I can be much good at something I don't ever do." But then, the thought of doing this as a regular thing clicked in his processor and he blushed again. "We'll… see. I’m not going to make any promises."

Jazz snickered, pecking a kiss to Prowl’s nose, half wanting to trill at the blushing. “Don’t make me bust out the nonconsensual cuddlin’ on ya, Prowler. Ya gave me a taste, I’m gonna need more.” He managed to push his legs to either side of one of Prowl’s and twisted them up. He couldn’t help the giggle that escaped, but figured they were both due for a solid bit of humor.

"Is such a thing even possible?" Prowl asked, giving Jazz a dubious look. "And in any case, it might be a little difficult to 'cuddle' with me while I'm busy. You know I never leave my office because I'm apparently madly in love with my workload." He snorted. The crew had some rather ridiculous notions about mechs sometimes.

Jazz beamed. “Challenge accepted.”

"Oh really now?" Prowl lifted an optic ridge, a light smirk on his face. "So, am I going to have to _actively_ reject your cuddling attempts and hide in my quarters in order to get work done?"

“Naw, that might break my spark. Run all ya like though.” Jazz grinned. “We can call it a trainin’ exercise.” He was pretty sure Prowl thought he was just joking around, but just wait until the first time Jazz draped himself over Prowl’s lap and curled up for some good old snuggling.

"You're assuming you can catch me," Prowl replied, lightly jabbing a finger into Jazz's side. "I'll have you know, I'm quite good at not being found when I don't wish to be disturbed." He was teasing of course. He couldn't imagine _not_ wanting to cuddle with Jazz, however he didn't want him to think he was desperate for attention or anything of that nature.

Jazz just snorted. “See? Now that just sounds like an invitation ta attempt it.” He was more than willing too. It sucked slag that they had to deal with all the trauma and drama before he got to see this side of Prowl, but now that he had, Jazz wasn’t about to let the mech hide away. At least not from him.

"You're welcome to try," Prowl said, a light, taunting tone in his voice. "But I'll be sure to-" he paused to think for a moment before continuing with a smirk. " _Bust out_ all my special moves. Just for you."

Jazz growled, engine revving as his arms tightened. The reaction was real, even if he was trying to play it off as just messing around. His spark gave a hard pulse, and heat flashed through him of just what sort of ‘special moves’ Prowl might have.

But Primus! Where were these thoughts coming from? He’d always known Prowl was an attractive mech, but he’d never even considered there could be an actual attraction. He really ought to be playing this cooler. It was probably the stress and fear and tension. Once they were home and healed, then Jazz could reevaluate.

Prowl wasn't surprised that Jazz had growled, or even that he'd revved his engine, he'd seen and heard the mech do that often enough both in seriousness _and_ in play. What he was surprised by, however, was the deep, visceral reaction that vibration of sound had on him. It was deep, primal. It made his spark pound and his tanks flip in the most peculiar way. It made him want to do- _things_. And _oooooh_ , the things he suddenly wanted to do!

But no! He shook himself mentally, trying to dispel any of those inappropriate thoughts. He shouldn't be imagining such things with his subordinate! He was clearly reacting illogically due to the stress of nearly dying, the drain of his injuries, and the fear and trauma they'd both suffered over the past three days. Once they were back and everything was normal again, it'd be just as it was before. He was sure of it.

Jazz snickered a little, and stayed snuggled close. He _was_ comfortable, and it really wasn’t going to hurt them to rest a bit longer.

He did, however, steer the topic away from flirting, even if it was adorable to watch Prowl blush, the temptation was too strong to take it further, which yeah… Jazz just couldn’t do in this situation. It would be wrong.

~ | ~

Jazz and Prowl rested for a few more hours before they got up and slowly moved deeper into the caves. A handful more hours after that, and they discovered a mining shaft. Jazz felt awful for how Prowl had to pull his remaining doorwing in close to him, but they managed to _just_ fit without scraping the walls or catching on the support beams as they crawled out.

And crawl out they did. It was dawn the morning after the attack, and Jazz figured they were safe enough. He could see the lake in the distance, just a shine back west along the ridgeline. Not _far_ , but there were trees again, and no sign of Decepticons. They remained hyper-cautious, but as a few more slow days of walking passed, nothing happened.

Jazz was exhausted -so he knew Prowl had to be too- when they finally broke through the trees and saw the _Ark_ in the distance. “Home, sweet home,” Jazz murmured. Fragging finally. “I’m gonna recharge for a week.” And because it’d become a habit and running joke, he asked, “Gonna join me?”

Prowl nearly collapsed he was so relieved to see the all too familiar, and more than a little welcoming, sight of the _Ark_. "Just as we left it," he murmured before realizing Jazz had asked him a question. "Hmm?" He looked at Jazz and snorted softly. "I may consider it, assuming you remember what a washrack is," he teased, poking at a dirt smudge on Jazz's chest. "You're filthy." Not that he was any cleaner, but that wasn't the point.

Jazz chuckled, and started walking. “Now there could be some fun.” He cast Prowl his best lecherous grin. “I’ll wash your back if ya wash mine~”

Any further banter was cut off as dust trails suddenly appeared at the entrance of the _Ark_ , zooming in their direction. “Hey cool. Welcomin’ party.” Jazz raised a hand and waved. They were banged up plenty, especially Prowl, but they were still on their feet, and with a little TLC, they’d recover. Not that Jazz would ever call Ratchet ‘tender’ to his face.

“Holy fragging Primus! Look at you both!” Ratchet shouted as he transformed and stomped toward Prowl and Jazz, arriving ahead of Prime and Ironhide. He took in their injuries at a glance, and moved toward Prowl first. “East. Everyone goes _east_ from now on for their vacations. Fragging Pits! Look at you. You’re both _wrecked_!”

Prowl would have given Jazz a smack with his one remaining doorwing, but decided against it in favor of dealing with the walking whirlwind that was Ratchet. He couldn't help but laugh softly at the medic's tone as he soaked everything in. "That would probably be a wise decision," he said tiredly, trying not to show just how exhausted he was, even though he knew Ratchet would see right through him. "The Decepticons are up to something on the coast, and unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, we somehow managed to stumble right into it." He wanted to hug Ratchet suddenly.

Prime transformed as he reached everyone, hearing as Ironhide did the same. “We’ll send Mirage to look around, but more importantly, welcome home.” He looked both of his officers over, smiling at Ratchet’s fussing and cursing as he walked behind Prowl despite the guilt and concern over Prowl and Jazz’s appearances. “I’m glad you’re both home. We’ve been looking. I’ve already had Red Alert recall the search parties, but no one saw any sign of you.”

Jazz smiled brightly at Prime, waving to Ironhide too. “We took the back route.”

“Looks like,” Ratchet huffed, reaching over to pluck a stray stick from Jazz’s shoulder. 

"Back route, he says," Prowl snorted. He smiled weakly at Optimus. "I'm glad we're back, sir. I will never look at mountain climbing the same way again, and as a precaution, you may want to keep any flight capable mechs _away_ from me until I've had some time to recover, because if any flier so much as _looks_ at me funny, I will likely shoot him."

“Primus. Enough of this. We can chat later. Get inside. You both need hosed down before I can even try working on you.” He eyed Prowl. “ _Can_ you walk the rest of the way to the _Ark_?”

Prowl looked back at Ratchet, trying very hard not to twitch his wing. "I think so? Though to be completely honest, I don't trust my own feet right now. I'm lucky I can stand at all. My sensors haven't been reading right since I had that unexpected swim a few days ago."

Prime turned and transformed, trailer opening. All his questions absolutely could wait. “Both of you climb in. I think you’ve done enough walking.” He wanted his mechs in the medbay where Ratchet could get to work. It pained him to see the damage, and it was almost- no, it was definitely _weird_ to see Jazz without his visor.

Jazz was willing to walk, it would show the other Autobots they were really ok, but he _was_ tired, and Prowl was slagged. Frag, he really didn’t know how either of them were still on their feet. Hooking his arm around Prowl’s waist as Ratchet supported him from the other side, he moved toward the trailer, offering Ironhide a grin.

It wasn’t any tighter fit than the mine, but it was Optimus. It was their friends, and they were safe. Jazz got Prowl home safe, and that realization made his knees buckle for some reason.

“Whoa! Com’on now, Jazz. Ya’re almost there,” Ironhide said, catching Jazz as his legs gave out. He let Ratchet help Prowl into the trailer, then got Jazz loaded up too, before transforming.

Prowl couldn't even begin to express how grateful he was as he crawled into Optimus’ trailer, making room for Jazz before he just couldn't move another inch. He mumbled something that may have sounded like thank you, but even he wasn't entirely sure what actually came out of his mouth.

Ratchet hauled in his entire medical staff and was shouting orders before he and Ironhide even managed to get Jazz and Prowl out of Prime’s trailer. Wheeljack and Perceptor began gathering medical supplies, Swoop and First Aid grabbed the gentle cleansers and set the water temperature in the medbay’s large washroom, and with Prime and Ironhide’s help, Ratchet got Jazz and Prowl into it, and started washing them down with clinical efficiency.

“Primus, your both filthy.” Ratchet pulled some withered plant matter off of Prowl, and gently began sponging away the grime around the stub of his door wing.

“The fuck…? Is that a _zip tie_?!”

Jazz’s one-opticked, exhausted attempt at an irreverent smirk was pathetic by all standards and nearly ripped Ratchet’s spark out. He huffed, and cursed colorfully in a multitude of languages, focusing on the tasks at hand and making lists of all that needed done, and in which order, so he wouldn’t just grab them both and sob while clinging to them.

Hours later that urge to sit and sob somewhere was stronger than ever. The work was done, Prowl and Jazz were recharging deeply, and other than Prowl’s replacement doorwing -which Wheeljack was already off and fabricating- they were repaired. Some more energon, and they’d be fine.

Ratchet slumped into his chair, sent the report to Prime, Red Alert, and Ironhide, then let his helm rest on his crossed arms while he focused on breathing and nothing else.

~ | ~

It was two days before Prowl finally came back online. He lay there quietly, listening to the soft, familiar sounds of the medbay. He kept his optics closed so he could just absorb everything- the smells, the sounds. _All_ of it.

He never thought he'd be so happy to be in the medbay. It was surreal lying there, clean, undamaged- other than his still missing wing panel. He was comfortable and warm, and he _didn't hurt_.

His wing twitched, and Prowl sighed, letting one optic shutter crack open, getting an optic full of the all too familiar, optic-searing orange walls. He had even missed that horrible orange. _Primus_! His wing twitched again, and he let his optic fall shut. He was still half sensor blind, but it was nice to be able to examine the room around him with at least one of the panels fully functional.

Where was Jazz?

Ratchet was up and crossing the medbay as soon as the monitors on Prowl notified him he was awake. “Good morning,” he said. “Well, for another half hour anyway. How do you feel? And before you try to sit up, go ahead and take stock. Your gyros and stabilizers will probably still be off a bit. Jack’s almost got your doorwing together. Perceptor should be able to start the neuro-wiring this afternoon.” He ran a few scans of his own, but nothing had changed except Prowl’s energy levels, and they were much improved.

Prowl hummed softly, letting his sensor panel twitch again as he tracked Ratchet around the room. "I feel fine," he replied after a moment to check his sensor readings. "In fact, I'd say I feel almost normal, with the exception of my missing sensor panel." And _damn_ , was that nice. "I'll be glad to have them both back and be _whole_ again."

He carefully pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked around the room. "How's Jazz?" _Where_ is Jazz?

“Jazz is fine. I kicked him out about an hour ago to get a real wash and so everyone could see him.” Ratchet began to unhook the monitor’s lines from Prowl.

"You mean," Prowl said, giving Ratchet a subtle, playful smirk, "You kicked him out because he was beginning to annoy you."

Ratchet snickered. “He kept asking when you would wake up. I told him my crystal ball was on the fritz and threw him out after the fifth time in ten minutes.”

Cycling his vents, Ratchet said more seriously, “Everyone’s been really worried about the both of you. I’m sure Prime will want to update you himself, but the quick and dirty version is that Mirage found the Decepticons, and he’s currently gathering information so we can decide what to do when he feels he’s learned all he can. For now, we’re assuming they’re trying to build a small base of operations up there.”

Which was Not Good at all, but Ratchet was just happy to have the Second and Third in Command back. Everyone relied heavily on them. Prowl for his steady, calm assurance and unwavering support, and Jazz for his exuberance and ready smile. The base was too quiet, too empty without two of their largest personalities around. Not that Ratchet believed for a moment that Prowl thought his presence mattered in comparison to Jazz’s, but then he didn’t get lost as often as Jazz, and he hadn’t been around for the barely whispered fears of ‘but what will we do without Prowl planning things?’.

Shaking off a week of fear was hard, but Ratchet pulled himself free of the worry again, and finished up with Prowl. “I want you to walk around in here a little bit before trying to navigate the halls. Mechs will be all over you, so that sensory input is going to go haywire until we get the panel replaced and your systems recalibrated.”

"I hate recalibrating," Prowl complained quietly, stretching before he pushed himself off the berth and onto his feet. He swayed a little, catching his balance on the edge of the berth. He smiled at Ratchet. "Thank you," he said. "I can't even begin to tell you how _good_ it feels be home, and to actually be able to move without jarring something raw or broken."

“It’s good to have you home,” Ratchet replied softly, hand out and ready to move to catch Prowl, but he had been down to one doorwing for over a week. He _should_ be fine, if a bit slower, but hopefully he wouldn’t need the walls everywhere he went.

Prowl offered a smile, reaching out to touch Ratchet's hand. "I'll be fine now," he said. "You've already made sure of that."

Prowl moved away from the berth to begin pacing slowly around the room, readjusting to the new repairs to his doorwing. "I think, to be fair, the biggest threat I'm likely facing as soon as I step outside of the safety of your medbay, will be coming from Jazz himself. If he was _that_ anxious to know when I'd wake up, it seems logical."

“That hurts, Prowler. Truly. I think my spark’s breakin’ right now.” Jazz flashed a bright smile.

Ratchet groaned, “Oh no, not you again!”

“I just thought I’d check, an’ I heard voices, so look! I was right.” Jazz smiled at Prowl, rocking back and forth on his feet with his hands behind his back. “Figured I’d offer my services if ya get ta leave.” He gave Ratchet a questioning look.

Ratchet rolled his optics. “Yes, Prowl can leave once he’s ready. But you better contact me if you have _any_ problems, got it? My best guess is that the doorwing will be ready to attach in a couple days. So until then, take it easy.”

Prowl rolled his optics as well. "I'm sure your spark will somehow manage, broken or not," he said, giving Ratchet one last smile. "I'll be sure to let you know if anything goes wrong. I'm not nearly as much of a lunatic as the rest of the crew. Don't worry so much."

Jazz bopped over to Prowl and offered his arm. “Wanna go greet the masses? Or is it finally cuddlin’ time?” he purred, and ignored Ratchet’s snort of amusement. He’d woken up worried about Prowl, and sure, he looked fine, but he’d been so quiet the last couple days they’d walked. Not just Prowl-quiet, but upset-mech-at-the-end-of-his-rope-quiet. Seeing him awake and smiling really did do Jazz’s spark good.

"I'll see you later, Ratchet," Prowl called, taking Jazz's arm as it was offered. "I suppose I should probably let the crew see that I'm alright before I start trying to hide somewhere dark and quiet. Besides, I'm sure Ratchet won’t let me actually get any _work_ done until he's had my wing reattached anyway."

Jazz snickered as they left. “We can go grab some energon in the common room? That oughta give ‘em a chance ta see us.” He winked behind his visor, one side dimming as he gave Prowl a bright smile. “I was waitin’ for ya.” He waved at Cliffjumper as he crossed the hall ahead, stopped, and leaned back to wave at them with a smile of his own. “I think they missed us.”

Prowl smiled, giving Jazz's arm a brief squeeze. "Missed you, perhaps," he said, pausing to give a hesitant wave of his own. "I'm just administrative. I'm not Mister Life of the Party. You brighten up a room when you walk through the door. I'm..." He shook his head and shrugged. "I kill parties."

Jazz knew better than to try to convince Prowl of the others’ affection for him, so he grinned, snuggling closer, carefully so he wouldn’t knock Prowl off balance. “Ya think I light up the room?” He purred softly, smiling up at Prowl. “Re-e-eally~?”

"I think you light up my _life_ , Jazz," Prowl said with a snort. He walked with his wing fully extended, his pace slow so he wouldn't tip or stumble. His balance was better now than it had been out in the woods, but he still wasn't completely steady, even with the recalibration and the repairs. He could live with that for another couple of days. Especially if Jazz was going to be around to help him. "It's been nothing but a whirlwind of excitement ever since you've walked into it."

“Careful. I might be fallin’ in love a li’l bit.” Jazz’s spark really did give a harder pulse at Prowl’s words, and he couldn’t help but think about that kiss. They hadn’t said a thing about it, but his lips tingled at the memory. Jazz suddenly really wanted to skip the common room and get to those cuddles. Maybe a bit more of that kissing if Prowl was willing.

“Yes well... you spend enough time with a mech-” Prowl was going to say more, but then they were in the common room and swarmed by mechs. Being suddenly bombarded with so much sensory input was overwhelming to say the least. He didn't know what to do with the sudden attention.

Jazz barely got them to a table before everyone crowded around. “Better sit down. I’ll get-” He broke off as Sideswipe showed up with two cubes of energon. The chatter was loud, and hands were all over both of their shoulders and arms. Skids even grabbed Prowl’s hand and clung.

Skids was clinging to Prowl’s hand as if he were some sort of life support, and Sideswipe was there, wearing that famous smile of his, except it looked strained. Prowl could see a wariness in everyone that he hadn't noticed before now.

"Hey, Prowl!" Sideswipe called, shoving the cubes into Prowl and Jazz's hands. "Man are we glad to see you. We were all starting to get a little worried when Jazz came out without you. Glad to see you're ok too."

Prowl swept his single wing back, trying to keep it out of the way, only to accidentally smack another mech who'd been standing behind him. "Sorry," he said, wincing at the sudden jarring of his wing panel. Why was everyone gathering around him? Jazz was the mech who was friends with everyone. What was all this? They actually missed _him_ too? But-

Sunstreaker brushed his hand along Prowl’s doorwing. “Didn’t even scuff me. Glad you’re back,” he said, and gave Prowl’s shoulders a squeeze and Jazz a tight grin before sliding out to the edge of the group and a bit closer to his twin. The crowd was too close and making him feel claustrophobic.

Prowl stared after Sunstreaker as the golden frontliner moved out of the cluster of mechs. He didn't blame him in the slightest. Having so many EM fields mingling with his, sliding over his sensor panel, disorienting him- information flooding his sensornet, actually making the sensors in his wing panel glitch and reset. He had to sit down and all but flopped into the empty chair across from Jazz, clutching at the energon cube.

Jazz thanked Sideswipe for the energon, and sat down. He smiled all around and let everyone jabber for a moment, but then decided enough was enough. Jazz could take it, but it had to be driving Prowl up the wall. “Alrighty, mechs. We’re excited ta be home too, but Prowl’s only got one sensor panel.” He saw how Skids and Bluestreak winced and nodded, Skids letting go, and both Praxians moving away.

"Thank you, Jazz." Prowl gave Jazz a tight smile before allowing himself to relax a little in his seat.

Jazz sipped his energon as everyone moved off. Some went to their shifts, others sat around and had their own energon, or watched the television, but everyone gave them some space. Jazz was happy with the reactions. _Really_ happy. He knew Prowl was loved by everyone. They were a family even when they got on one another’s nerves. “We’ll hang here for a little bit,” he said softly, “then we can head out. We’re back and doin’ good, so if ya can handle all the input, we oughta let ‘em see it for a little while.”

Prowl shut his optics and slouched a little in his seat. "I can probably handle a few more minutes," he said, feeling a little drained suddenly. He took a sip from his energon cube and sighed. He wasn't used to having so _many_ mechs in his personal space at once. Not in any positive sense anyway. He could still feel Sunstreaker's hand on his wing where the frontliner had touched him. Not unpleasant, just- strange.

"I should probably pull Bluestreak and Skids aside later and have a talk with them personally," he said, glancing over toward the other two Praxian mechs, who were seated together at another table not far from his. "There aren't very many of us left, and I imagine, Bluestreak at least, took my disappearance somewhat personally."

Jazz tipped his helm. “Prowl,” he said softly, seriously. “They _all_ took your disappearance personally.” And the proof of that was in the concerned glances every last Autobot was casting _Prowl_. Jazz looked and acted fine, but Prowl was missing a whole doorwing, and every last one of them were worried about him. It was actually rather adorable. No one wanted to crowd Prowl, the other Praxians understood better, but everyone got it. One doorwing made slag hard and stressful, but they just couldn’t resist looking at Prowl now and then. Jazz knew every last Autobot on Earth pretty slagging well. He could see the tension on Sideswipe in the way he smiled, how he didn’t speak as loudly as usual. Sunstreaker’s scowl kept slipping into a worried glance. Blaster wasn’t as loud as usual when he laughed. On and on around the room.

Jazz smiled softly. “Finish your energon, and I’ll help ya to your quarters.” He chuckled. “Keep the excited masses off ya.”

"You know what I mean, Jazz." Although, now that Jazz made him aware of it, Prowl tensed and sat up a bit straighter. He could see the worried glances, which he'd been too overwhelmed with sensor data to register before.

Luckily, he'd managed to set up a temporary filter to buffer some of the input from his sensor panel. The only downside to that was data filters tended to delay some of that data reaching his processor. However, with the filter in place, he was able to feel as someone ran a scan on him from across the room with what felt like medical grade scanners. Ratchet wasn't there, so it had to have been someone else on the medical team, possibly First Aid? Medical scanners tended to give his sensor panels a crawling, prickling sensation, and while he understood the reasoning behind it, once was more than enough.

With that decided, Prowl finished his cube of energon and dispersed the field. He stood, keeping his hands lightly on the surface of the table so he wouldn't lose his balance, and nodded at Jazz. "Let's go. Any longer and the data lag is going to give me a migraine."

Jazz finished his cube, and stood too. “We can put in another appearance later,” he said quietly. But in truth, Jazz was actually still tired too. He didn’t think he should be after two days’ worth of recharge, but he was. And then there was that… itch under his spark that made him want to press against Prowl and not let go.

Prowl nodded, and hesitated briefly before holding out his hand. "I'm not sure about you," he said, trying not to look embarrassed by all the optics watching them, "but I could use some more recharge, and I'd rather not fall on my aft on the way to my quarters." He was silently inviting Jazz to join him, knowing he was clever enough that he should be able to figure that out without the need for words.

Jazz moved so Prowl could lean on him as they walked. He was afraid he was misreading it, but took Prowl to his door, then lingered. He did _not_ want to take advantage of Prowl. Sure, he liked the flirting and playing, but he didn’t want to pressure Prowl, or worse, make him think Jazz was just using him. Jazz had a reputation after all, and that reputation said he never took interfacing seriously. How could he when he occasionally even slept with Decepticons for tidbits of information?

Prowl turned to face Jazz and gestured for him to come inside. "I plan on recharging in my own berth, if it's all the same to you. However I- you're welcome to join me if you think you can handle putting up with me for that long." His wing drooped a little, and he tried to keep his expression bland in case Jazz rejected the offer. He was slightly confused about the status of their relationship. Jazz was his friend, and had put up with a great deal since they'd been stuck with each other the past week, but he also knew Jazz, and doubted the mech would really be interested in _him_ in that way. He decided to wait and see what happened, if anything.

Jazz smiled and entered easily. “Is it snugglin’ time?” He bounced a little on his feet, hooking his arm around Prowl’s waist as they angled toward the berth. “Cuz I been lookin’ forward to snugglin’ time for _days_.” He wanted to see just where this was going before he brought up that kiss. Or… maybe just snuck another one.

"I suppose," Prowl said, sending the signal to lock his door as Jazz led him through his sparsely decorated quarters to the recharge room.

And there was his berth. Primus, Prowl had missed it while recharging on the _ground_ for a week. "Quite honestly, I'm not sure I can recharge alone anymore, and that's entirely your fault."

Jazz purred before he could stop himself. “That an invitation for more than just today’s snuggles? Cuz ya know, Prowler, I’m thinkin’ I’m already addicted.” He eased away from Prowl to bounce the last few steps and flop himself onto the berth. “Which side d’ya like?”

"This side is fine." Prowl blushed and sat on the edge of the berth. "And to answer your question, that depends entirely on you and your intentions." He couldn't look at Jazz, folding his hands in his lap and staring ahead at the wall.

Prowl didn't do casual relationships, or interfacing. He didn’t think he could take this any further than just snuggling unless he was sure Jazz was serious. Especially since he had to work with Jazz daily, and he didn't want to build an attachment to a coworker only to have his spark crushed beneath the mech's heel. He'd already made that mistake once, a long time ago when he was young and naive. He wasn't going to repeat it.

Prowl knew there were times when Jazz had to do certain things in order to acquire information. He also knew that interfacing was a form of comfort and social bonding, and Jazz's interfacing habits didn't reflect the type of mech he was. A lot of mechs had multiple berth partners, and there wasn't anything wrong with that. He, however, did not, and while he wouldn't tell Jazz he had to stop, he had to be certain he wasn't just another 'notch' on Jazz's belt, so to speak.

Jazz reached out and caught one of Prowl’s hands. “I don’t really have intentions. I’m not sure what’s goin’ on here.” And that was true. “I wanna touch ya. I wanna hold ya, and,” he paused for a moment. “And kiss ya again. Think I’d like ta do it for a while? I feel different about wantin’ ta touch ya. Not just ‘face ya fast and walk away, but beyond that, Prowler, I don’t really know.”

It was… well, not new. Jazz had felt this before, but he was a _lot_ younger then, and that hadn’t worked out. Dancers didn’t get taken seriously, and Jazz had been too much of a free spirit to fuss much about searching out a serious lover. This physical interest in Prowl was… perhaps not terribly new either because Prowl was a good-looking mech, but not something he’d allowed himself to consider before that kiss.

Prowl looked up as Jazz caught his hand, looking into the mech's visor. He'd gotten used to seeing him without it, and couldn't help wanting him to remove it so he could see his whole face, his undamaged optics, but he didn't. "I don't know what this is either, and I think that's what bothers me." He paused to pull his hand free and crawl up onto the berth, facing Jazz. "I think perhaps we should wait on taking this any further until we're both sure. I don't... want to get involved in something that's going to leave me broken and distracted. You're plenty distracting enough without any of those negative emotions attached."

“I ain’t in any hurry, and I ain’t about ta push.” Jazz couldn’t help the feeling of disappointment. He _really_ wanted another kiss, but he wasn’t the sort to coerce. Not in this. Not only would it be just plain wrong, but also counterproductive. He’d rather be friends than nothing.

Jazz snuggled in closer to Prowl, and his spark picked up just at the contact. Primus, going slow was going to be the Pits. He _wanted_ Prowl, but he definitely didn’t want a hit and run, and he wanted Prowl to feel secure and respected more than he needed to jump his struts. He would wait. As long as it took.

Prowl smiled, shutting his optics and snuggling a bit closer. "Good," he replied with a soft purr. He'd like to do more than just _kiss_ Jazz, but he didn't trust his reactions right now. They'd both just survived a week of trauma and near-death. He was still feeling out of sorts and missing parts. He wanted to see if his feelings for Jazz, whatever they were, changed between now and when his new wing was attached.

"Pleasant recharge, Jazz," Prowl murmured, draping an arm over his waist before allowing himself to sink into darkness.

Jazz purred softly, nuzzling Prowl’s helm as he settled in. “You too, sweetspark. Safe now, so let’s get some real rest.”

~ | ~

Jazz smirked at Ratchet as he sent his crew to the washracks. “No injuries, my mech! We’re grungy, but unhurt,” he called over her shoulder. “A success all the way ‘round.” He wanted a shower, then he needed to prep his reports and get with the other officers.

That shower was thorough, but fast, and then Jazz was off to Prowl’s office. He wanted to see him first. They had two weeks of recharging together and snuggling under their belts, with the occasional sleepy, nearly chaste kiss, and he knew Prowl would be worried despite the check-in on the team’s way home that all was well.

Prowl pacing the length of his office behind his desk. The mission had been a success, he reminded himself. Jazz and his team were unhurt. He just needed to actually _see_ the mech to assure himself his- that Jazz was alright.

When the chime on his door finally rang, he hurried to sit at his desk before calling out, "Enter." He tried to make himself look busy as the door slid open to admit Jazz, but couldn't help the wide smile blooming across his face as his closest friend strolled casually into the room.

"Jazz. You look- clean." Wow, that was smooth. Prowl wanted to bash his forehelm into the desktop.

Jazz chuckled. “I’da been here about fifteen minutes ago, but I didn’t think ya’d want me trackin’ mud all over your desk.” He flashed a bright grin, then crawled right up over the desk to drag Prowl into a hug. He wanted to do more. Pits, he’d been wanting to do more for a couple weeks, but just resting his helm against Prowl’s for a moment, optics shut, breathing the same air was amazingly relaxing.

Prowl blinked at the sudden hug, then purred, winding his arms around Jazz's middle. "You could have walked _around_ the desk," he said with a quiet laugh. He tipped his helm to nuzzle at Jazz's helm, tightening his grip slightly for a moment before pushing at him.

"Off my desk, glitch. You're going to make a mess of all my neatly organized paperwork."

Jazz resisted the push, and twisted his hips around to slide into Prowl’s lap rather than back off the opposite side. And if a few datapads clattered to the floor… well, whoops. Jazz curled up, burrowing his face into Prowl’s neck. “Missed ya. Everything went real well. Kicked their afts. DoubleTap put a nice shot through Skywarp’s wing. Thundercracker caught him, but he went for a good drop before they skeedaddled.”

"Good." Though Prowl couldn't help the wince of sympathy even if the Seekers _were_ their enemies, and Skywarp and Thundercracker were responsible for dislocating his wing before they'd managed to get back to the _Ark_. Wings were just sensitive.

Prowl shook his helm, and wrapped his arms back around Jazz as he got comfortable in his lap. "I missed you too. I'm glad you're all safe." He paused and lowered his volume. "Especially you. I was- worried. I know you're fully capable of taking care of yourself out there but-" He shrugged helplessly. "I've grown rather attached."

Jazz purred. “Rather attached too.” He gave Prowl’s neck a light kiss. “It’s gettin’ a bit late, and Prime mentioned a meetin’. That t’night, or we leavin’ the big talk for t’morrow?” He was tired, and since it’d all gone pretty well and the Decepticons would be busy licking their wounds, Jazz was actually hoping for a morning meeting instead.

Prowl vented softly, reaching up to grab hold of Jazz's audial horn and squeeze gently. "Morning meeting. Normally I'd push for a debriefing as soon as possible, but I suggested we postpone the meeting until the morning. I wanted to make sure you, and your team, had plenty of time to rest after such an important mission."

Jazz tipped his helm into the touch and purred. It’d been a rough and action-packed three days, and now that he was with Prowl, and clean, the sleepiness was setting in. “Glad ta hear it. Think I’m ready for snuggle time. Can ya cut out early?”

Prowl smiled, gently rubbing slow circles around the base of Jazz's audial, purring softly. He nuzzled Jazz's cheek and said, "Normally, I'd say no, but for you, just this once, I'll make an exception." He missed Jazz, the way the mech would curl in against him, the soft sounds his systems made while deep in recharge, the feel of his lips when they touched. He wanted Jazz all to himself tonight, even if they weren't going to do anything more than recharge together.

"I'll need you to get off my lap so I can log out of my terminal and we can retire for the evening," he said, gently tweaking that audial horn playfully. "I can't carry you all the way to the berth."

Jazz tipped his helm back to smile up at Prowl. “No? But it’d make for such great gossip if ya did.” They were trying to be discrete, but the _Ark_ wasn’t that big of a place, and too many optics were on them. They kept it platonic in public, but there was no mistaking Jazz entering and leaving Prowl’s quarters instead of his own. In general, it appeared that everyone was either down for their relationship, or too afraid to speak against them because of what Jazz would do to them if they upset Prowl. He was inclined to go with the former reason because of all the indulgent looks from Prime, and little smiles from everyone else.

"No, Jazz. I'm not going to carry you. You have two perfectly functional legs. I expect you to use them," Prowl said, giving the mech currently occupying his lap a look. "And you know I don't like gossip." He prodded Jazz in a side seam just below his arm.

Jazz snickered, and slid from Prowl’s lap with a graceful twist. He bent for the datapads he’d bumped to the floor, then propped his hip on the edge of the desk. “Could be funny though.” He grinned. “What do ya need ta finish before we can go?”

"No," Prowl said, entering a few keystrokes and shutting his work station down. "And I don't need to finish anything. I can take those reports you scattered about to Prime in the morning. They're mostly just inventory and acquisition requests anyway. Nothing immediately pressing."

Prowl stood, resisting the urge to tidy up his desk, then held out a his arm for Jazz. "Come on, before you pass out and I have to call Ratchet to retrieve you."

Jazz chuckled, linked his arm with Prowl’s, then followed him out and to his quarters. He was only teasing, but there was a part of him that wanted to stake a claim loud and clear on Prowl. He didn’t think Prowl was that sort of mech, in fact, he knew he wasn’t, but there was still this odd, new-feeling part of Jazz that wanted to shout from the top of the volcano that Prowl was _his_. His snuggle-buddy if nothing more so far, but he _wanted_ more. Quite a damn lot actually, but he’d take what he could get.

For the first time ever, he couldn’t conceive of sharing too. He figured it was wrong, and Jazz wasn’t used to thinking his gut reaction or emotions were wrong. It was all weird, and the only thing that soothed it was cuddling up in Prowl’s arms.

The walk back to Prowl's quarters were relatively uneventful. Prowl was glad they didn't get distracted by many mechs on the way, he wasn't feeling terribly social, and didn't particularly want to share his time with Jazz with anyone else. Not that he'd ever say anything of course, it just wouldn't be right.

Once they were in Prowl's quarters he activated the lock, watching as Jazz crossed immediately to the berth. He followed, crawling up onto the padding, sitting cross-legged with his back to the wall.

"Are you alright?" Prowl asked, concern beginning to squeeze his spark a little. "You've been awfully quiet." For Jazz, at least. In fact, there’d been no bouncy Jazz-esque chattering or laughter the entire way from his office to his quarters.

“M’fine,” Jazz said, smiling. He shifted and laid his helm in Prowl’s lap, purring contentedly. “Glad ta be home. Glad ta be _here_.” He could feel the tension draining out of him. His team was successful, there were no injuries, they were safe and sound back at the _Ark_ , and Jazz had his helm in Prowl’s lap. He smiled a little more and purred louder. “Definitely better’n fine.”

Prowl smiled, fondly stroking Jazz's helm, and purring back as he made himself comfortable in his lap. "I'm glad you're home too, Jazz. Things just weren't the same without you." He leaned forward to smile down at Jazz in return. He'd kiss him if it weren't for the fact that Jazz had chosen a rather difficult place for Prowl to even reach. He just wasn’t that flexible. Had, in fact, no idea how Jazz managed to bend the way he could.

Jazz gazed up at Prowl, and not for the first time wished he could just lean up and kiss him. Not soft light kisses, but a good, hard, passionate kiss that’d make their engines rev and systems heat. Actually, Jazz had no problem with heating systems. He’d self-served more in the last couple weeks than he had in the previous six months combined. Prowl turned him on, and if he didn’t grab the chance for some outlet, he’d have done something incredibly stupid despite his morals by this point.

“I’ll be extra noisy for the next few days ta make up for it.”

Prowl just laughed softly, then shifted, moving his legs and adjusting the position of his wings so he could lay down beside Jazz. "So long as I'm still able to get my work done, and you're not being _too_ distracting." He purred again, leaning in to nuzzle at Jazz's face. "Get some recharge. The meeting isn't until oh-nine-thirty, so you should be plenty rested."

Jazz forced down the urge to shiver, locked down his engine so it wouldn’t rev, and did his damndest not to think about how much he’d like to ‘face Prowl. He didn’t care how it went down either. Spike or valve, whichever Prowl wanted from him. Mouth? Pits yes! He wanted to hear every sound he could wring from the mech.

Pimus! Enough of that. He was getting far too warm, and Prowl hadn’t even _done_ anything.

"I'll wake you when it's time to get up," Prowl murmured, letting his hand glide up Jazz's arm so he could lightly tweak one of the saboteur's audials. Again he resisted the urge to kiss him, and instead squirmed a bit until he lay with his face only inches from Jazz's, purring like an oversized, contented cybercat. "Good night, Jazz."

“Night,” Jazz whispered, but he was suddenly entirely too keyed up to sleep. Prowl’s face, _mouth_ right there were making Jazz’s lips tingle again, and that tweak to his audial sent a shock of pleasure rushing over his sensornet. He shut his optics, then nudged up the visor. He’d been recharging with it on of late, the lack of vision having been disconcerting, but he was _home_. Prowl might have him wound up and ready to go, but he was _safe_. Nothing sent ‘I’m safe’ vibes to his subconscious like him deliberately clicking the visor up and leaving his face bare. Maybe he’d even manage to recharge?

Prowl released a soft vent of air as he relaxed, his arm sliding around Jazz's waist to snuggle closer. He had his cuddle buddy -for lack of a better term- back, and he was more than happy about that. When Jazz had been gone, Prowl discovered that he lost focus on his work far too easily, and spent most of that time worrying about the team, Jazz specifically.

Prowl had missed Jazz, so much that he even found he had trouble recharging without him nearby. Ratchet had given him odd looks when he had seen him passing through the halls, wandering restlessly when other mechs had long since retired for the night. Now he felt he would get some quality recharge, his systems already cycling down.

~ | ~

Jazz was still recharging when Prowl onlined the next morning. He checked his chronometer and sighed. They still had a good hour and a half, until they needed to get up and meet with Prime and the other officers for the debriefing today, but he was awake now.

Prowl opened his optics and lay there watching Jazz recharge for a few minutes. He could feel the soft brush of air from Jazz’s vents, and the way his energy field seemed to ripple slightly against his when he moved. He leaned closer, reaching up to touch his face gently, his thumb brushing along the soft metal below Jazz's optic. He looked so peaceful and relaxed. So beautiful.

Prowl purred softly and let his lips brush Jazz's in a light kiss. He figured if he was awake, Jazz may as well be too, and what better way to wake up?

Jazz was dreaming and he knew it, but it was too much what he wanted to try to shake free of it. Prowl was kissing him. Prowl was holding him close, bodies lined up, legs twisted together, and kissing him. Jazz pressed forward into it, body heating instantly as his mouth parted so he could lick out and taste Prowl’s lips. He should stop this. He should. He was lying in a berth _with_ Prowl recharging. He definitely shouldn’t be hovering here mostly asleep and panting as he resisted his panel opening.

Slag. He _couldn’t_ let his panel open and have Prowl wake like that.

Jazz moaned, partly in pleasure and need, but mostly in disappointment. He was going to need to grab a quick shower alone before that meeting. But coming awake didn’t change what he could feel. Warm, soft lips pressed to his.

Prowl was kissing him awake. Jazz moaned again, a shiver tripping down his back.

Prowl couldn't resist the sudden electric shock that shot through him as Jazz moaned against his lips. It pooled in his spark and spread outward making his entire frame tingle. There was another distinct, tingling ache behind his panel as well, but he tried to ignore that for now, focusing on Jazz instead.

His hand slid from Jazz's face up to grip his audial briefly, then moved behind his helm to hold him in place as he pressed closer. "Good morning, Jazz," Prowl whispered, unable to hide the slight hitch in his vents as he spoke. He should really give Jazz the opportunity to stop him, assuming he wanted it.

Jazz meant to reply, but only a soft whimper came out as Prowl shifted against him. His entire body felt far too hot, his sensornet was buzzing, and that brief squeeze to his audial horn sent a solid flash of pleasure right to his spark. His array was burning, and it took an actual override to keep the cover shut. He should stop this. Prowl said he wanted to go slow, and two weeks was _nothing_ to their kind, even if it felt like forever to Jazz.

“Prowl…” A warning as much as a plea, but Jazz couldn’t drag himself away. He sure as frag didn’t want to stop, but Prowl had said he wanted to go slow. “Primus.”

"It's ok," Prowl whispered, propping himself up on his forearm and leaning over Jazz so he could kiss him again, fanning his doorwings out behind him as he nipped Jazz's lower lip. He felt himself heat heating up just being this close to the mech.

He knew what he wanted now. He wanted Jazz, had wanted him since the first moment they'd kissed in that cave, but he was being cautious then. They had been through so much before even reaching the _Ark_. He had needed to be sure before allowing anything else to happen. His desire for Jazz had only grown since they'd gotten back, and now it was almost impossible to lie beside him without reaching for more.

Prowl traced a finger down along the corner edge of Jazz's audial, knowing how sensitive those horns were. He couldn't resist touching them.

Jazz trembled, optics nearly cobalt as he stared up at Prowl’s face. He couldn’t get his fingers to relax where they clung and curled around the edges of armor plating, and his interface systems were both online and aching. His spike pressed against the inside of his panel, and his valve squeezed down on nothing, a hot gush of lubricant soaking his array as Prowl stroked his audial. His spark pounded, and he could barely breathe, let alone move to stop this, or even slow it down, and he couldn’t tell if this was just the next slow step, or if it was _the_ step.

He, _Jazz_ , was afraid- terrified of blowing it.

In one swift movement Prowl pushed himself up and over Jazz, straddling his hips, his doorwings arched up high over his helm. "Do I excite you?" he heard himself asking as he hovered over Jazz, his own optics shading darker. "We have plenty of time until the meeting," he murmured in a low, silky purr. "And think perhaps it's safe enough for us to experiment a little. See where this might take us. Unless you'd rather not?"

“Experiment?” Jazz asked, usually smooth voice a rasp of strained lust. Primus! The mech was killing him! Excite him? He did something, and Jazz was hard-pressed to think clearly enough to separate the emotions swirling in him, let alone label them. “Ya’re killin’ me. I mean it. Room’s spinnin’. Can’t breathe. Put the brakes on now, or take me all the way, babe, cuz I can’t stop this, an’ I don’ wanna.”

"Jazz," Prowl began, reaching down to grab both of Jazz's hands, bringing them up to his hips. "You should know me well enough by now to know that I wouldn't be where I currently am, if I didn't want to take it 'all the way'." He released Jazz's hands and leaned forward. "I want you, Jazz," he purred against Jazz's lips. "Now open your panel and spike me already."

Jazz’s panel was retracting, his spike pushing free before Prowl finished talking. “Prowl,” he gasped, fingers clenching, squeeze-releasing on Prowl’s hips. He licked out, lifting his helm to deepen the kiss.

“Too hot.” Jazz was _shaking_. _He_ was shaking, sensornet alight, body burning. Long gone was any of his control. He might as well be a youngling with his first lover again as close to overload as he already was. It was… embarrassing actually. He wanted to please Prowl more than anything, but there was already a knot low in his belly and a hard pressure at the base of his spike. He tried to just breathe, relax and pull back a little because _fragging Primus_ , Prowl didn’t even have his panel open yet!

Prowl was tempted to tease Jazz a little, but decided not to be cruel. Instead he bit lightly at Jazz's lips before pressing harder into the kiss, his tongue licking out to taste. His panel snapped open, and he gasped as cooler air brushed his exposed valve.

Reaching between them, Prowl curled his fingers around Jazz's spike, guiding the tip to his valve, warm lubricants slicking the surface as he rocked his hips and impaled himself slowly . He moaned Jazz's name softly as the plush, slick lining of his valve spread, calipers rippling around the spike as his body adjusted. It'd been a long time since he'd taken a lover.

“Ahh! Prowl!” Jazz’s hands tightened hard on Prowl’s hips. He was tight and hot and slick, and the involuntary twitches of his valve were maddening and perfect. Jazz grit his teeth and tried to think of anything that would allow him to drag back even the smallest hint of control, but it was _Prowl_.

He was interfacing with Prowl, his snug, rippling, wet valve molded to the very contours of Jazz’s spike.

Jazz’s vents hitched and caught as fire burned through his lines. “Babe… I need…” A minute. For Prowl to be still as possible. For ice water to be dumped over him. Anything that would take him back from the edge of overload he was riding.

"Need... what?" Prowl asked, shifting his legs and panting softly as he tried not to move. He peered down at Jazz with deep cobalt optics, hands braced against the berth as his wings fluttered behind him. It was extremely difficult to resist rocking his hips and grinding down against on Jazz's spike, driving it deeper into his valve. He couldn't stop the involuntary movements of his calipers either. It just felt so incredible, so perfect. He wanted- no, he _needed_ more. "Jazz..."

Jazz moaned, and gave in. “M’sorry,” he panted, pulling Prowl’s hips down and thrusting up into that inviting, plush heat. It only took two thrusts before a shout was torn from Jazz. His helm arched back, optics squeezed shut, jaw clenched as he pulled Prowl into each thrust. He growled, trying to resist the release that was already burning though him, pulsing hot spurts of transfluid into Prowl. He tried to keep going, vents heaving and dizzy, but the grip of overload eased and left him reeling and whimpering, face on fire from the humiliation. He was better than this. Usually.

Prowl moaned, vents hitching as Jazz drove into him. _Yes. Yes!_

But he was taken by surprise when Jazz suddenly overloaded. He shuddered, a low moan escaping his vocalizer when thick, hot transfluid filled his valve, leaving him shivering and slightly confused as he stared down at Jazz. He couldn't help feeling secondhand embarrassment for the mech. Not to mention disappointed and unsatisfied.

"Apparently I'm more talented than I thought," Prowl purred, trying to lighten the mood a little, leaning forward so that he was all but lying on top of Jazz, trying not to squirm too much.

Jazz gave an embarrassed huff of a laugh. “S’what ya get for windin’ me so tight for so long.” He wrapped his arms around Prowl’s waist, and kissed his cheek. “Might be talent, but I think that’s it’s just _you_.” He gave a soft purr, and rock his hips a little. An aftershock shimmered over his systems, and he moaned more fully.

“Though… gotta be talent ta tease like ya do.”

Prowl moaned as Jazz rocked his hips, fingertips clawing into the berth beneath them. "Haven't even _begun_ to tease you yet," he replied, shutting his optics and concentrating so he could manipulate his calipers along the length of Jazz's spike. His vents hitched and he ground down against Jazz's hips, sending a shock of pleasure shooting over his sensornet.

Prowl’s charge was still there, tingling over the nodes on Jazz’s spike, and it really wasn’t difficult to keep his interface system online. “I ain’t done with ya.”

"Primus!" he gasped. "Good. Because... I'm not.... done with _you_ yet, either."

Jazz cycled his vents, pushing his hips up in a slow grind that rubbed Prowl’s array against his before withdrawing to do it again. Maybe that fast overload was a good thing, he was already buzzing a bit, but maybe he could give Prowl back a bit of that teasing. He rocked his pelvis up in a harder thrust, growling a bit and revving his engine as he held Prowl against him. “Ya don’t know what teasin’ is, sweetspark, but I’ma show ya.”

Prowl's vents stalled out for a moment, then he cried out, turning his helm to bury his face into Jazz's neck. He panted, moaning against the main lines, mouthing and nipping at them. Jazz probably had a point, and had far more experience with interfacing, but that didn't mean Prowl didn't have any tricks of his own, or that he couldn't invent some.

"You keep... accusing me of teasing," he gasped, shivering hard and crying out as the vibrations from Jazz's engine rolled through him, tripping his spark. “Where's your evidence?"

“Two weeks,” Jazz murmured, tipping his helm to lick the edge of Prowl’s chevron. “Touchin’ my audials, breathin’ on my neck…” He moaned softly, charge tingling up his spike nodes. “Love our cuddlin’ time, but ya been drivin’ me crazy since that kiss in that damn cave.”

"Doesn't... doesn't count," Prowl whispered breathlessly, unable to help the whimper as Jazz licked his chevron. "Wasn't deliberate. Doesn't count. And... _you_ kissed me." A charge crawled over the bright red, sensor-laden piece of metal, tingling its way down his spinal column and hitting him in the spark. Prowl cried out again before it shot the rest of the way down to his array, making his valve clench and his entire frame shudder. "Jazz!"

Jazz pushed against Prowl, sitting up. With a buck of his hips and a good twist, he laid Prowl out on his back, hands leaving his waist to smooth over the doorwings. He smirked down at Prowl, pulling back until his spike was nearly all the way out, then plunging back in. “Say it louder, babe. I wanna hear ya.”

Prowl made a startled, half-strangled sound as he suddenly found himself on his back. He gasped and arched up into Jazz, his wing panels fluttering against the berth as they trembled beneath him. He lifted his knees and wound them around Jazz's waist, locking his ankles behind his aft, and squeezing with his thighs each time Jazz thrust in.

Prowl cursed, panting as the charge grew, his valve suddenly spooling down tight as Jazz struck deep, hit his ceiling node and triggering his overload. He tossed his head back and screamed Jazz's name as energy flashed hot and hard through his frame, making his optics and his spark flare before he collapsed into a quivering, strutless lump beneath Jazz. His vents roared as they tried to draw in cool air to dissipate some of the heat in his systems.

Jazz purred, pushing slowly in and out to draw out Prowl’s release. “That’s one,” he said, leaning down to nip at Prowl’s neck. “Like the cursin’ too. Go ahead an’ be vulgar, babe, it’s hot on you.”

He pulled out, then sank slowly back in, holding them to the sedate pace. Jazz wanted to give Prowl a chance to recover, but not wanting the charge to drop away completely. “Sexier than in my fantasies.”

Prowl let his optics shutter and kept his helm tipped back, mouth open, vents panting softly as Jazz kept moving. He barely heard the words Jazz was saying, far too wrapped up in the sensations coursing through his lines. It was almost maddening how tortuously slow Jazz was being.

Prowl shivered as aftershocks made his valve ripple around Jazz's spike, tipping his helm just enough to peer up at Jazz as he hovered above him. "Fantasies?" He couldn't help being curious, despite the distraction.

Jazz chuckled. “How else ya think I managed ta keep from jumpin’ your struts?” He rolled his hips, changing the angle a little to push deeper as he ground their arrays together. Heat tingled up his back struts, spark pounding. “Kept windin’ me up. Hadda kill that charge somehow.”

"You..." Prowl was sure his face was hot enough to melt, but for some reason, the knowledge that Jazz had been that strongly affected by him just made him even more aroused. He whimpered, wrapping his arms around Jazz's neck, his valve clenching down tight on his spike. "You... have to share them with me... some time," he murmured between panted gasps and low, breathless moans. Primus!

Jazz revved his engine, licking and nibbling up to Prowl’s audial, as he reached down to grip Prowl’s hips and hold him in place. “Ya wanna hear the fantasies, or how I imagined it was _this_ perfect, tight, wet valve squeezin’ me as I took m’self in hand and overloaded in your washracks.” He purred, heat flushing through him at the memory. “Ya know, ya were right over there, sittin’ at your desk.”

"Ahhh!" Ok, this was definitely teasing. "Primus! _Fuck_... _**Jazz**_!" Prowl's engine revved hard and his joints locked around Jazz, his valve squeezing down on the spike in strong, rhythmic waves. He wasn't quite at the point of overload yet, but the charge was steadily increasing and his spark pounded hard in his chest. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.

Jazz’s engine redlined as Prowl swore. Primus. That had no right to be that slagging hot. He gasped, thrusting harder as pleasure whipped through him, body taking over momentarily.

“More of that, babe,” Jazz whispered into Prowl’s audial. “Gimme more.” Before that kiss, he’d never have thought Prowl could burn so hot. He’d never had that kind of thought about Prowl, never imagined the interest would be returned.

"Jazz!" Prowl clawed at Jazz's shoulders, letting lose a string of the most vulgar curses he could think of. He clutched at him, vents cycling furiously, choking back a sob as the pleasure ratcheted up several notches. He was _just_ shy of overloading a second time, but Jazz was still too controlled, and Prowl needed more.

"Please!" Prowl gasped, trembling. "Fuck me... _harder_!"

“Want ya screamin’ my name.” Jazz leaned up a bit for leverage, and thrust harder, picking up the pace. He was determined to push Prowl over first this time, and forced down the need. It would be so easy to just let his lust take over, but _Primus_ it’d be worth it to wait to get to watch Prowl. “So damn sexy. Love ya comin’ apart for me like this.”

Prowl clung to Jazz in desperation, needing something solid and alive to keep him anchored or he'd lose himself completely. As it was, he was barely aware of anything else beyond the burning need for release. Pleasure tightened into a hard knot in his belly and he gasped, panting incoherent pleas for more.

He shivered, wondering why it'd taken him so damned long to take Jazz as a lover. They'd worked together for the entire course of the war, and not once did Prowl even consider it. Although, Jazz's reputation had a small part in that decision, but that didn't seem to matter anymore. Not after everything the two of them had been through together over the past few weeks.

Prowl tensed, joints locking as his back bowed off the berth. Overload tore through him and he screamed, Jazz's name rolling easily from his tongue, chanting it like a prayer before his vocalizer glitched on static and he collapsed, panting, optics offline.

“Ahh! Prowl!” Jazz let instinct and desire take over as Prowl arched and screamed under him. His hips pounded into Prowl, driving his spike deep. The overload hung for an impossible minute, then he fell over the edge with a sharp cry, molten heat flooding Prowl’s valve and splashing back out against his thighs. He curled over Prowl, burrowing into his neck to bite the main line until the hard grip of release eased and he could breathe again.

Prowl gasped and shuddered, whimpering through aftershocks, still clutching at Jazz's shoulders. He tipped his helm back slightly as Jazz bit at his neck, unable to help the way his frame tensed and his valve _clenched_. There was no going back from this, not that he regretted _any_ of it. In fact, he was determined to turn the tables as soon as he could get his processor to work beyond the mostly inarticulate, “Holy frag,” he kept looping back on.

Jazz moaned, or maybe growled. Maybe a bit of both as Prowl’s valve clamped down on him, sending a hard aftershock shuddering through him. “Prowl,” he whispered, barely holding himself up on shaking arms. He kissed and licked the spot he’d bitten, soothing it over, then moved up over Prowl’s jaw to his lips for a soft, slow kiss.

He broke the kiss to rest his face against Prowl’s and sighed. “Primus. Tease me anytime,” Jazz grinned.

Prowl gave Jazz a playful, if tired, smirk, sliding a hand up the back of his neck to lightly flick his fingertips against an audial horn. "Oh, I plan to," he said, purring. "I think I still owe you a bit of something too." He just wasn't sure he could move yet, at least not well enough that he wouldn't hurt himself. What he had in mind required a bit more finesse than he could manage after that mindblowing overload.

An optic ridge arched up. “Oh?” Jazz asked, dipping down to nibble at Prowl’s lips. “What do you still owe me?” he asked against Prowl’s mouth, then licked along his bottom lip. He was curious because he couldn’t think of a single thing Prowl could possibly ‘owe’ him. He forced himself up though, easing his spike out and settling beside… his lover.

Jazz smiled, liking that thought as he curled against Prowl, careful of his doorwing.

Prowl purred and shifted, rolling onto his side so he was facing Jazz. "Indeed," he murmured, nuzzling at Jazz's jaw, nipping lightly, then following the line up to his lips. "I believe we still have some time," he whispered before claiming Jazz's mouth in an almost possessive kiss. True, they would be cutting things very close, but he didn't think Optimus would be too terribly upset if he was late to a meeting just this _once_. It wasn't like he'd ever been late before.

Jazz purred into the kiss, spark throbbing at the hunger he could feel from Prowl. At first the time comment didn’t register, but then he remembered the meeting. He didn’t really care though. The preliminary reports were in, and so what if he strutted in just a little late this once?

“Don’t leave me in suspense, babe,” Jazz murmured, fingers gliding over the lines of Prowl’s armor, caressing the curves.

Prowl bit Jazz's lip and growled softly, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, hovering over Jazz again. He smirked, optics already shading darker as he peered down into Jazz's face.

"I do believe it's my turn, _babe_ ," he said, flattening his palm on Jazz's abdominal plating, splaying his fingers out as he stroked the smooth lines of his frame, exploring a little as his spike extended, slick and glistening with lubricant.

Jazz’s optics went wide in surprise, but he was more than happy to roll to his back and let Prowl have his ‘turn’. He could already feel his systems spinning up, and a glance at Prowl’s ready, shining spike made his valve clench down in want.

They were more than a little late to the meeting.

**Author's Note:**

> [Hide-n-Seek by LB82](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7263214)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Hide-n-Seek](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7263214) by [LB82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LB82/pseuds/LB82)




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